


modern love

by prettyoddnjh



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, M/M, No Smut, Non-Graphic Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Slow Burn, Smoking, Underage Drinking, and yuppie!niall, featuring:, film nerd!harry, friendly jock!liam, music junkie!louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 09:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 72,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11918004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyoddnjh/pseuds/prettyoddnjh
Summary: It's August 9th, 1985. "Shout" by Tears for Fears is the top song on the Billboard charts,Back to the Futurehas been the #1 film in the country for five weeks straight, and Harry has just moved to what he believes to be the shittiest town in the Midwest.Louis has been wasting away in East Chicago for over five years, Harry is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to him, and both of them are hiding a dangerous secret from their best friend: they're, like,totallysprung on each other.





	1. 1985

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to start this note by saying that i CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS FINALLY FINISHED!! it's been just over a year since i started writing this, and many months later, i can't even begin to tell you all how ecstatic i am about finishing this fic.
> 
> a very special thank you goes out to [abby](http://wlwharrie.tumblr.com) for being my beta last-minute for this fic! also, i would like to thank the ace squad - [ben](http://ieatficsforbreakfast.tumblr.com), [em](http://paylinshaw.tumblr.com), [leo](http://captainneill.tumblr.com), [valo](http://liamsgrammys.tumblr.com), [sasha](http://ziamxo.tumblr.com), [yaz](http://please-dont-freak-out.tumblr.com), [lina](http://anderscones.co.vu), and [georgia](http://siriuslyace.tumblr.com) (and of course, abby as well) - for helping me through writer's block and for always pitching new ideas to me throughout the writing process! i don't know what i would've done without you guys!! (also sorry if i forgot anyone but these are the people i remember helping out with my writing the most often and i love you all)
> 
> lastly, there's a lot of 80's music mentioned in this fic, and you can listen to it all [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/eliavaaa/playlist/24iaAPH5FucBd2la5riRaz). also, if you'd like to listen to louis' summer mixtape (which is mentioned later in the fic), you can listen to it [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/eliavaaa/playlist/1tjnzHiaTeOrDQO45uCJGX), and you can listen to louis' valentine's day mixtape (which is mentioned even later in the fic) [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/eliavaaa/playlist/3GcRoZi6TgfvlH0jyGDNLM).
> 
>  
> 
> **IMPORTANT: louis and harry's parents in this fic are not meant to be accurate reflections of their actual parents, so i refrained from assigning any names to their parents.**
> 
>  
> 
> i can be reached anytime at my tumblr, [eightiesau](http://eightiesau.tumblr.com), so feel free to come and talk to me about the fic! enjoy!

August 9th, 1985

“Harry, would you quit drawing and go outside?” Harry's mum's voice sounds from the kitchen, ascending the staircase towards his room. “You’ve been in the house all day!"

Over the last week, Harry has discovered that the only thing worse than moving an ocean away from the only place he's ever known – to fucking  _Indiana_ , no less – is that it gives his mum an excuse to annoy him about going outside. He has a feeling she thinks that spending time outdoors might change his attitude towards the move, though she's sorely mistaken.

He peers down at his latest creation: yet another sketch of Marty McFly, his newest favorite character. He's seen  _Back to the Future_ three times since it was released last month; twice in England and once two days ago.

He exhales slowly, then sets his notebook and pencil down on his desk. The wood is glossy and new, and he absolutely hates it. He misses the pencil smudges and dents that characterized his desk back home. With a heavy heart, he stands and pushes in the chair, which is also new (and is considerably less comfortable than the old one). One step at a time, he makes his way downstairs.

“Sweetheart, don’t look so upset,” his mum says, her voice softening upon seeing him. She places two five dollar bills into his hands and presses a kiss to his temple. The foreign currency serves as yet another reminder of how far away from home he is. “Go out and buy yourself a film or a few records.”

A sigh escapes his lips. “Fine.”

He exits the house and closes the front door behind him. The air hangs heavy on his skin, warm and sticky and completely different from what he's used to. The sun beats down in the late afternoon, beginning its descent over the horizon. The faintest hint of an evening glow settles over East Chicago in hues of gold and amber.

Harry begrudgingly strolls down the street and tries to ignore the sinking feeling that's been present in his stomach ever since he found out he was moving. Eventually, he sees a dingy store deemed Rockin' Records and enters. Once inside, he finds that sifting through the piles of vinyls isn’t as enjoyable as it used to be. It feels nothing like the record store back in Holmes Chapel.

 _Heartbeat_ _City_. _Bella Donna_ _._ _Thriller_. He's not sure he's even heard anything by the Cars, but he likes Stevie Nicks, and although he's leagues away from being any sort of music connoisseur, everyone under the sun has listened to  _Thriller_ more times than they can count.

He begins inspecting a U2 record, but he still hasn’t found what he's looking for: a-Ha. He keeps hearing their song "Take On Me" on the radio and absolutely adores it.

“You need help finding anything?” an English voice asks. It sounds like a boy. His accent is thick and Northern, just like Harry's own, though the two are certainly distinguishable from one another.

Harry's first thought is,  _How is it possible that there's another Tommy in this shithole?_  His second thought is that he should probably address the person who spoke to him.

When he lifts his gaze, the empty feeling in his stomach morphs into something that feels more like longing. If life were anything like a Saturday morning cartoon, Harry's pupils would have transformed into hearts by now. For, standing there behind the counter with his eyebrows raised, is a guy with the most amazing cheekbones Harry's ever seen and blue eyes the color of the tide. His sandy brown hair is styled in a way that reminds Harry of the lead singer from a-Ha. He has his hands in the pockets of a ratted denim jacket with the sleeves cuffed, and Harry's not sure he's ever seen anyone more beautiful.

“Uh, yes, actually.” Harry stumbles over his words, trying to keep his cool. “D’you happen to have a-Ha’s record?  _Hunting Ligh and H_ … I mean - sorry, I meant  _Hunting High and Low?_ ” He wants to scream at himself for acting like such a fucking numpty. “I’ve been trying to find it for ages.”

“I can check.”

He watches the English boy as he hops nimbly over the counter and begins searching through the rows upon rows of records. Harry's heart is beating away rapidly in his rib cage, and somehow he feels like the boy can hear it, too. He starts coughing, but he's too embarrassed to take out his inhaler, so he suffers through it for dignity's sake.

“You know, you kinda remind me of the guy from a-Ha,” Harry says, cursing himself for talking any more than he needs to. He's only going to ruin his already-awful first impression. “The one on the album cover.”

“Morten Harket?” the boy asks, still focused on the records.

“Huh?”

“Morten Harket. The lead singer of a-Ha.”

“Oh, yeah. Your hair kinda looks like his.”

The boy smiles softly and nods.

“So, where are you from?” Record Store Boy asks, still browsing the collection of vinyls. His dainty fingers comb quickly through them, and Harry watches as his eyes dart back and forth between album titles and band names. A Queen song can be heard from the record player at the front of the store. It takes Harry a few seconds to process that the boy's question  _has_ to have been directed towards him, since he and Record Store Boy are the only ones in the shop.

“Holmes Chapel. It's in Cheshire,” he responds. “I just moved a week ago. You?”

“East Chicago.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow, and although the boy doesn’t look up, the smirk on his face leads Harry to assume that he knows what Harry's thinking.

“Doncaster, originally. Been here since before President Reagan got shot, though.”

He pauses for a moment and looks up, lost in thought. "Actually, I've been here since before Lennon got shot, too."

With that, he returns to his search. Harry doesn't remember exactly when either of these events occurred. 1980 and 1981? Or did they both happen in '81?

Record Store Boy sighs. “Sorry, mate. Don’t think we have the a-Ha record. You need anything else?”

Harry wants to conjure up the name of a random record just so he can spend more time with the mysterious, attractive stranger, but he's afraid he’ll make an even bigger fool of himself if he stays here. Besides, he doesn’t know the names of many albums - mostly just the hits from the radio or MTV.

“No, um, I’m good. Thanks,” he answers, politely turning down the offer. He waves awkwardly as he shows himself to the exit.

Harry hates moments like these. Moments where he wishes he could be himself; moments where he so desperately wants to break his internal promise never to tell anyone. Unfortunately, he and his fellow fags aren’t exactly welcomed in the general public at the moment, with the whole “Gays have AIDS! Quarantine the queers!” shit happening. In tight-knit communities - whether in England or Indiana - rumors spread like wildfire, and he knows plenty of small-town people who won't  _walk_  near people with the virus. He's heard talk of gay men who have been shut out from their families for coming out, regardless of whether or not they'd been infected. In fact, he had a family friend back home who wound up in that exact situation, and it was unbearable to witness. Harry could never bring himself to take that risk, especially now that he's found himself in a place where he can't think of even a single street name. However, he finds that it’s difficult to keep himself closeted when there are cute boys working at the record store down the street.

It’s not like he has a chance, anyway.

It doesn't take him very long to find his way back to the house. By the time he gets there, he's so lost in his own thoughts that his mood has taken a sharp downward turn. He's angry about moving, and about not finding the record he wanted, and most of all, about being a fucking queer. He shoves the money his mum gave him onto the kitchen counter and storms upstairs to sulk in private.

He's still unsure how he convinced his mum and stepdad to get him a television for his new room, but it's the greatest gift he's ever received. His films are virtually the only thing he's passionate about, and he's not sure he'd be surviving the move without them. He loves going to the cinema and analyzing the characters and the plot lines. It's easy to do by himself, as well, which comes in handy; he often finds himself doing things alone.

He searches through his VHS tapes and tries to pick one of his favorites, knowing it will help diminish the dark cloud hovering above his mind. He stops rifling through the collection when he sees one he wants to watch:  _R_ _aiders of the Lost Ark_. A dose of Harrison Ford in a suit and tie might ease his mind a bit. He takes the tape out of its box and puts it into the VHS player.

About twenty minutes later, just as Indiana Jones is preparing for his trip to Nepal, Harry's mum opens the door to his room to inform him that dinner's ready.

He pauses the film and pads downstairs. His stepdad and older sister, Gemma, have already joined his mother in the dining room.

Dinner is silent on Harry's side of the table, but his family chats amiably about how his stepdad likes his new job, and how apparently a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is going to be started sometime soon. At the end of the meal, his mum remains at the table, and she and Harry are the only people left in the room.

“Harry, sweetie, I know you’re still upset about the move,” she starts. “But you’re old enough to know that it was necessary. Your stepfather’s work needed him here.”

Harry nods glumly. He's gotten this talk several times over the past seven days.

“You’ll feel better about it soon; I promise. School starts on Monday, and you’re bound to make some new friends.”

Once again, he nods, though he isn't very confident in his friend-making abilities. He'd known all of his mates in Holmes Chapel since they were very young, and he's not great at small talk. He knows how small towns work, too -  _everyone_ is going to notice the new kid, and he despises the thought of a few hundred pairs of eyes staring at him in the hallway. He supposes he’ll see how it goes.

His mum kisses the top of his head and heads off to her room. Not long after, Harry trudges upstairs to finish watching _Indiana Jones_.

* * *

August 12th, 1985

“Bye, Mum! See you later!”

Louis grabs his backpack off the floor and bolts down the staircase. His Chuck Taylors sit by the door. Hurriedly, he slips them onto his feet, making sure to tie the laces tight. Once he’s out the front door, he grabs his bicycle from the yard and begins the trip to school.

It’s his first day of his sophomore year at East Chicago High School, and truthfully, he's pretty pumped for the new year. It’s a chance, if only a small one, for him to start over. He prays that he isn't shoved into the lockers or beaten up quite as many times this year, now that he's no longer a freshman. (Being on the smaller side makes him a fairly easy target for locker-shoving and swirlies.)

He treks his way across the quad to the main building of the school. After ascending the staircase and locating his Geometry class, he sets his backpack on the floor by a desk near the back of the room. He takes his Walkman from his backpack and puts his headphones on. Then, he presses ‘play’ on _Songs From the Big Chair_ , and the song he was last listening to begins where he left off.  _Something happens and I'm head over heels / Don't take my heart, don't break my heart / Don't, don't, don't throw it away..._

Louis observes the classroom, hoping to see a familiar face or two. One of the fluorescent lights flickers every few moments. A girl from his English class last year sits on a desk, chatting with her friends. The teacher, Mr. Peterson, looks bored out of his mind as he organizes syllabuses for the new students.

Suddenly, Louis spots the boy from Cheshire who came into the record shop the other day, hunched over a notebook.

Cheshire Boy has sad, tired green eyes, and Louis wonders what it is that’s got him looking so down in the dumps. His short, brown hair is perfectly styled in a kind of old-fashioned way that makes him look a bit like Buddy Holly. Louis thinks his mum must regulate how Cheshire Boy styles his hair; no one Louis knows uses gel anymore. Everyone uses hairspray - it's much more convenient and much less shiny.

After realizing he shouldn’t stare, Louis redirects his gaze down to his Walkman, pretending that he hasn’t seen the boy. The last thing he needs is for him to know that he’s been lingering in the back of Louis' mind since he first met him.

Louis supposes that the mystery shrouding Cheshire Boy is what has drawn Louis to him. He's had encounters with every person at this school at some point before - everyone except this one. His mind longs for answers: why he moved here; what music he listens to (besides a-Ha); what his name is; whether he’d like to catch a film with Louis on Friday…

Louis halts his train of thought before he lets himself go too far. It’s dangerous to think like that here. In fact, it’s dangerous to think like that _anywhere_. Despite having fully accepted his sexuality for what it is, Louis is sure that no one around him would share this sentiment.

The bell rings for class to begin, and Louis reluctantly removes his headphones.

—

Louis had tried to catch Cheshire Boy’s name during attendance, but his mind had wandered and he’d stopped paying attention to Mr. Peterson’s droning voice after “Henderson? Donna Henderson?”

Now, the bell rings for lunchtime, the shrill noise echoing throughout the hallways. Louis doesn’t have any other morning classes with Cheshire Boy, but he kind of hopes he pops up sometime in the afternoon.

Surveying the crowded cafeteria, Louis attempts to spot the boy. Chad and his gang of jocks sit laughing at a table next to the cheerleaders. The AV club sits in a far corner, and the students in marching band take up three tables. The punks make up one small section, since most of them sit outside to smoke. Even the Deadheads have a table of their own. Louis doubts that Cheshire Boy would be sitting outside in the grody, muggy weather, but he can’t seem to find him inside among the cliques.

Defeated, Louis sits alone in the same spot as last year. He's always had a hard time making friends, and all of the friendships he'd begun last year ditched him after the drama he had with Chad and his girlfriend. Maybe that’s the true reason why Louis is so attracted to the newcomer: he hasn’t met many people yet, making him the prime candidate to become Louis' new companion.

Besides, Louis has always found meeting new people to be a fascinating use of time. It's like buying new records: Louis knows who made the album, and he knows what the artwork looks like – maybe he even knows a song or two off it, if they’ve been released as singles – but he doesn’t _really_ know what to expect from it.

Cheshire Boy is a new record, and Louis wants to listen to him a million times over.

Suddenly, as though fate is on his side today, he spots the boy sitting alone at a table, just like Louis. He’s wearing a thick-striped polo shirt. His head is bent over a notebook, same as it was this morning. It doesn’t look like he really wants to be bothered, but Louis is becoming desperate.

“What’re you drawing?” Louis asks as he takes a seat across from him. A strand of hair has fallen onto Cheshire Boy's creased forehead, transforming him from Buddy Holly to Teenage Clark Kent.

The boy looks up, meeting Louis’ gaze. Reluctantly, and without a word, he slides his notebook across the table. It’s a totally ace drawing, and it looks a hell of a lot like the kid from  _Back to the Future_.

“This is Marty McFly, right? From  _Back to the Future_?” Louis guesses.

A small smile forms on the boy's face, with a hint of a dimple making an appearance on his cheek. He nods and takes the drawing back. Then, he closes the notebook, shielding Louis from any other wonders that might be hidden inside of it.

“You’re a great artist,” Louis tells him.

The boy speaks to him for the first time since Louis sat down. “Thanks.” His voice is a little gravelly, and deeper than you'd expect.

It's silent for a few seconds as Cheshire Boy munches on his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and Louis is unsure of what to say. The jocks’ table erupts into laughter at something that probably wasn’t funny.

“I’m Louis,” he blurts out, holding out a hand to shake. Subtlety has never been an asset of his.

The boy looks surprised by Louis' sudden introduction, but he reaches across the table to shake his hand. “Harry.”

Harry's hand is large compared to Louis' own, swallowing it up beneath his fingers. Louis suddenly feels far more intimidated by Harry than he had previously been.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. So, why did you come over here?” Harry asks. He smacks his forehead and huffs, like he’s scolding himself. “Wow, that sounded rude - I'm so sorry. I just meant that we don’t know each other.” He nervously takes another bite of his sandwich.

“Well, I remembered you from the other day. You came into Rockin’ Records looking for the a-Ha album and mentioned you’d only just moved here. I thought you might want a friend.”

“I do.”

Louis spreads his arms out in a grand gesture. “Consider me your new friend.”

Harry grins, and it’s a brilliant smile featuring glistening teeth that are a bit too large in the front, and deep dimples on either side of his mouth. His verdant eyes sparkle and crinkle at the corners. He’s so fucking handsome that Louis thinks he might cry.

They begin a lighthearted conversation. The original nervousness that Louis had sensed in Harry seems to dissipate as he becomes more comfortable around him. Harry, it turns out, is also fifteen and is in the same year of school as him. They have their last two classes together, and Harry lives two neighborhoods away - a fair bit closer to the center of town, but still near the outskirts like Louis.

As the bell for lunch is about to ring, Louis asks, “Hey, can I have your digits? So we can hang out after school sometime, or something.”

“Yeah. D’you have anything I can write with?”

Louis grabs a Sharpie out of his backpack and holds out his forearm, gesturing for Harry to write on it. Hesitantly, he does so, and he takes his time, carefully tracing each number onto Louis' skin in perfect black lines. It's a strangely intimate feeling that leaves Louis feeling flushed.

When Harry’s finished, Louis takes the pen back. Then, he grabs Harry’s arm and scrawls his number onto it before he can protest.

The bell rings, announcing that it's time to head to their next class. They walk to Biology together.

—

“C’mon, girls! Fizzy! Lottie! It’s seven o'clock!” Louis hollers from downstairs.

Two of his younger sisters, Félicité and Charlotte, come barreling down the staircase, their feet pitter-pattering rapidly against each step. Almost every night, the three of them - and sometimes the little twins, Daisy and Phoebe - gather in the living room at 7:00PM to watch MTV before the girls go to bed.

“ _Tonight, we’ve got a brand-new music video lined up for you!_ ” the video jockey on the telly informs them. “ _Stay tuned for later when we premiere David Bowie and Mick Jagger’s new music video for ‘Dancing In the Street’! Now, we’re all excited for The Cure’s_ The Head on the Door  _to come out tomorrow, so here’s ‘In Between Days’!”_

The Cure are one of Louis' favorite bands. Granted, he has a  _lot_ of favorite bands, but The Cure are definitely up there with the best on his list. He's grown up with amazing music, passed down to him by his parents, and over time he's developed a unique taste of his own. He's played the piano since year four, and he's currently teaching himself to play guitar. Sometimes, he writes original songs, but he's not sure they're really MTV-worthy, so he hasn't shared them with anyone. Besides, even if his songs turned out to be halfway decent, he’d have to sell them to someone else - he's not a great singer.

The “In Between Days” music video ends. The next ones are “Take on Me”, which is such an amazing video - Louis has never seen anything like it - and “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go”.

After a Diet Pepsi commercial featuring Michael J. Fox from  _Back to the Future_ , a Nintendo ad, and an "I Want My MTV!" commercial featuring David Bowie, Madonna, and Mick Jagger, the program returns. The Tomlinson kids watch until the girls’ bedtime at 8:30.

He guides the little ones upstairs to put them to bed. They change into their pajamas, and Louis watches them as they brush their teeth, making sure they get every spot.

Truth be told, Louis doesn’t mind having to tuck the girls in at the end of the day. It gives him a chance to spend some time with them. He has a little tradition of asking them which music video they liked best that day.

“I liked the new one with the funny men dancing,” Fizzy says. “'Dancing In the Street'.”

“Me, too,” Louis replies. “Lottie?”

“I liked the one with the drawings.”

"‘Take On Me’?”

“Yeah.”

Louis remembers that Harry also likes a-Ha – he was looking for their album in the shop the other day.

“Which one was your favorite?” Lottie questions.

“Um… I liked the one by a-Ha, too. Alright, loves, time for bed.”

Louis kisses Lottie’s forehead, pulling the blanket up to her chin, then does the same to Fizzy. He whispers one last 'good night', turns off the light, and closes the door. As he stands in the empty hallway, he hears the sound of the shower running in his parents’ bathroom.

After making a quick stop at his bedroom to put on his pajamas, he walks downstairs and turns on the stove, filling the teakettle with water. He drums his fingers on the counter as he waits for the water to heat up. When the kettle whistles, he pours himself a cup of tea.

Just as he's about to sit down at the kitchen table, the telephone rings - and it's not the phone in the kitchen. It's  _Louis'_  line, which is in his room upstairs. The only thing he dislikes about having his own phone line is that, if he's in the kitchen or the living room, he has exactly four rings to race to his bedroom and answer it. If he misses the call, he's got no idea who it was, and if they don’t retry, Louis will _never_ know who it was.

Louis almost spills tea all over himself when he throws his mug down onto the table and dashes up the staircase, running as fast as his feet will take him without falling. His feet thud against the steps. The phone rings a second time. As the third ring is ending, Louis bursts into his room and grabs the phone.

“Hello?” he answers, panting, as he flops down onto his bed.

“ _Um, is this Louis_?” a timid voice asks, and he smiles when he recognizes the person on the other end. He doesn’t need to ask to know that it’s Harry, the deep tone and decidedly un-American accent characterizing his voice. Louis still asks, though, just in case.

“Yeah. Is this Harry?” he answers. He twirls the phone cord between his fingers.

“ _Yeah. Hi._ ”

“Hi.”

“ _I just, uh… called to say… hi. And to make sure I have the right number. Your handwriting is a bit hard to read, especially when it’s smudged on my arm_.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

“ _No, no, it’s fine_.”

It takes them a few minutes to move past the awkward state of conversation they'd started with. They talk for about an hour longer, with Louis asking him which teachers he has and giving him some pro-tips about each of them, and Harry telling him why he moved to East Chicago and what he thinks of the town so far. Louis doesn't even care that his tea has certainly gone cold by now, and he doesn't realize that it's been an hour until he steals a glance at his clock and sees its hands pointing to 9:30. When Harry has to go, Louis hangs up and exits his room to go brush his teeth. He passes his mum in the hall.

“Who were you talking to?” she asks.

“Harry. He’s from Cheshire - I met him at school today.”

“Oh, how nice! What a coincidence that you met the only other Brit in East Chicago.”

Louis chuckles. “That’s what I said.”

“Has he been here long?”

“No, just over a week. I think I might ask him if he wants to hang this weekend.”

“Sounds like fun.” She kisses Louis' temple. His mum knows all about what happened between he and his former friends, and he can tell she’s eager for him to find himself a few new ones. “Good night, love.”

“G’nite, Mum.”

After brushing his teeth, Louis goes to his room and falls asleep almost immediately.

* * *

August 13th, 1985

“Where have you been so far?” Harry's asked when he sits down to lunch with Louis. The cafeteria is crowded and noisy, and voices echo off of every wall. The different cliques sit in the same places as yesterday, and he and Louis sit in their newfound territory near the edge of the room. "Like, in the town, I mean."

Harry furrows his brow and counts on his fingers. “My house, Rockin' Records, school… oh, and the grocery store, but only once.”

Louis looks at him like he's just told him he's never heard of Michael Jackson.

“That’s  _it?_ Nowhere else?”

Harry shakes his head.

“Those are all bunk! Except for the record store - I happen to be pretty fond of it there. For real, though – this town is pretty fucking boring, but there are places that are  _way_ more bangin’ than the  _grocery store_.” He pulls a face that makes Harry giggle. Then, traces of a smile dance across his face. “Hey, how about I take you up to the lake this Saturday afternoon? It’s not far from the town, and it’ll be nice to go before it’s too cold out to swim.”

“There’s a lake here?”

Louis laughs. It’s a delightful, tinkling laugh, full of joy and boyish charm like Peter Pan. It makes Harry's heart melt.

“Yes, there's a lake. Lake Michigan - it's about a half hour away.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose we can go to the lake, then. I’ll ask my parents when I get home.”

“Great.”

Harry continues drawing. It’s a sketch of Indiana Jones in  _Raiders of the Lost Ark_.

“What’re you drawing?” Louis asks, and a sense of déjà vu washes over Harry, reminding him of the way he and Louis' conversation had started yesterday. Normally, he's not a fan of sharing his artwork with people, but Louis is difficult to resist.

“Indiana Jones,” he replies.

“How come you’re always drawing?”

“I really love films, but since there’s no invention that lets you carry around a little telly with you all the time, I draw the characters instead while I’m at school.”

“That's cool. Music is more of my thing, but I do enjoy a good film, as well.”

“You like music?”

“Yeah.”

“You watch MTV, then, huh?”

Louis smiles. “My sisters and I watch it together every night.”

“Rad.”

By the end of lunch, they're so caught up in a conversation about who they think should be the next guest DJ on MTV that they almost don’t notice when the bell rings for lunch to end. Harry sidles along next to Louis as they make their way through the halls to the science wing.

“Hey, faggot!” a gruff voice yells down the hallway. Harry feels Louis flinch at the slur. For one blissful day, Harry had forgotten how awful high school was. Back in Holmes Chapel, he used to get pushed around a lot, but it was never anything too serious. From what he's seen in American films, though, high school here is a hell of a lot worse.

Next to Harry, Louis stops and takes a long, exasperated breath.

“Is he talking to us?” Harry whispers.

“He's talking to me,” Louis replies. “His girlfriend had the hots for me last year, even though I made it clear I wasn't interested, so he made it his hobby to torture me. They broke up last April, but apparently he still has something against me.” The tone of his voice implies that there might be more to the story than Louis is letting on.

“Don’t ignore me, English!” the boy shouts. “Who's that? Your new  _boyfriend_?”

“Would you fucking quit it, Chad?” Louis retorts. He turns around to face the bully. “Don’t you ever get tired of being a human asswipe?”

Chad charges towards them, and Harry panics. Their tormentor, who dons a blue and tan letterman jacket, is a tower of muscle and brute force; Louis, on the other hand, is small and thin.

Chad slams Louis against the lockers. Harry doesn’t want to get Louis into more trouble, but he feels like he should do something.

“Hey! Beat it, Chad!” Harry says as confidently as he can, but his voice is shaking.

“What did you say to me?!” The jock turns and faces Harry, who stares at him, terrified.

Despite the fact that he feels like shitting bricks, Harry stands his ground, planting his feet firmly on the floor. “I said, _piss_ _off_.”

Chad looks at Louis, obviously confused. “Why’s your little boyfriend still here?”

“You know, Chad, you call me a fag all the time, but you were jealous because you thought I was going to steal your _girlfriend_ ,” Louis tells him with a devilish smirk. “Sounds like you need to get your story straight.”

Despite their current situation, Harry snickers at Louis’ pun.

Chad forces Louis against the lockers again, and the metal clangs loudly with the force of the impact. Most of the people who had stopped and stared are moving on to their classes now.

“Don’t be a smartass, homo," Chad warns. He pauses and looks at Harry. “And  _you!_ Don’t fucking laugh at me! You'd better not act like a little shit again or I’ll beat your ass.”

With that, Chad walks away, stealing a threatening glace back over his shoulder.

“Eat my shorts!” Louis calls after him. He flips Chad the bird.

Harry stands stunned in the hallway.

“How do you deal with that so calmly?” he asks.

Louis composes himself and returns to walking to class alongside him. “I’m just used to it, I guess. It doesn’t faze me anymore.”

“Well, you look really brave while you’re at it.” Harry purposely leaves out the thought that Louis also looks totally rugged and handsome while he's fending off bullies, like Han Solo facing Jabba the Hutt.

He notices Louis rubbing the back of his head where it hit the lockers and frowns.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, don't worry about me - I'm fine. It's not the first time that's happened, and it probably won't be the last."

"Okay. Just making sure."

“Thanks. Also… thank you for sticking up for me back there.”

“No problem.”

They arrive at their next class just as it's about to start.

—

After a long day, Louis is not exactly itching to go to work, but it’s not the  _worst_ thing he could be doing after school. Besides, he invited Harry to come and visit, and he's got a new Cure album to listen to.

Rockin' Records has gotten a new shipment full of records and cassettes of  _The Head on the Door_ , so Louis puts his share of payment into the cash register and puts his new record on. (His employee discount is easily the best part of working here.)

He listens as the album spins, transitioning from "The Blood" to "Six Different Ways," which transitions to "Push". Then, he flips it over to hear the other side. Every song fills Louis with such  _emotions -_ it's part of why he loves The Cure. They have this unique ability to manipulate Louis' feelings in such a way that every song feels completely tragic and uplifting all at once.

After an hour or so has passed, and the record has finished spinning, he puts on a Prefab Sprout album and returns to his position behind the counter. As the second song begins, he hears a bell ring, letting him know that someone’s entered the shop.

Louis looks up towards the door. “Harry! Nice to see you here.”

Harry grins and waves sheepishly. “Hey. I told my mum you invited me to visit, so of  _course_ she was like, ‘Get out of the house and hang out with your friend!’” He mocks his mother’s voice when he quotes her, and it makes Louis chuckle.

Harry leans on the counter, holding his chin in one hand. His knuckles squish his cheek, and the whole thing is so completely endearing that Louis isn't sure what to do with himself.

“Oh!" Harry exclaims, clearly remembering something. "She also said I can go to the lake with you on Saturday, but she wants to talk to your mum first to make sure you’re, like, a good person and all. Doesn’t want me drinking booze or anything.” He rolls his eyes. "She's so overbearing sometimes. I'm fifteen and she still won't let me grow my hair out. I look like a narc."

Louis laughs heartily. "I don't think you look like a narc. I think you look like Buddy Holly."

"But Buddy Holly is, like, fifty. And he's fucking  _dead_ , Louis."

Louis guffaws at that, and Harry blushes profusely, giggling to himself.

“Anyway, hang on a sec. I've gotta give you the number if your mum wants to call mine," Louis says. He takes out a piece of paper and a pen.

Harry frowns. “But I already have your number.”

“Exactly. You have  _my_ number. I have my own line.”

“Ooh. Fancy.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and, fuck, it's  _so cute_.

Louis smiles and hands him the paper, trying not to blush. “Yeah, it was a present from my parents last year. It gets a bit hard to find a chance to use the phone when you live with four girls.”

“ _Four_?!”

Louis nods.

“I’m impressed.”

A thought pops into Louis' head. “Oh! I found you something.”

He searches under the front desk until he finds it:  _Hunting High and Low_ by a-Ha.

“That’ll be six dollars, but, uh… we got a new shipment in for this week, and I found your record.”

Harry stares at it with wide eyes. Then, slowly, he says, “You’re being very nice to me.”

This makes Louis laugh, confusing Harry even further. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

"I dunno." He takes one five dollar bill and a one dollar bill out of his wallet, sliding them across the counter. "I just assumed you have better things to do besides hang around with me."

Louis shakes his head and puts the money in the register. Harry slides the album into his rucksack.

“I need a friend, Harry, and you're the only person who seems to have taken any interest in the position. So,” he declares, leaning over the counter and raising his eyebrows, “I’ll say it again. Why  _wouldn’t_ I be nice to you?”

“I, uh…” Harry looks flustered. “I have no idea.”

“See? I have no reason not to be friendly.”

Louis hops over the counter and begins to show Harry the collection they have at the shop. The underrated records; the  _over_ rated records; a few of his personal favorites; the ones by the up-and-coming artists. Harry listens intently the entire time, looking fascinated by Louis' commentary.

Towards the end of Louis' shift, Harry has to return home for dinner.

“It was, um— it was nice spending time with you,” Harry says with a smile.

“It was nice spending time with you, too,” Louis replies. He can’t help but grin happily in return. “Now, off you go. Get some food.”

Harry beings walking to the door, but stops and turns back around. “I feel bad leaving you alone here.”

“Don’t feel badly; my shift is almost up, anyways.”

Harry nods. “Then, er... bye, I guess. See you at school tomorrow!”

He waves and heads out the door. The bell jingles. Louis stares at him as he goes, returning a wave even though he knows Harry can't see it.

* * *

August 17th, 1985

“Okay, I’ll see you in ten!”

Louis sets the phone back onto its base, ending their call. He changes into a pair of black swim shorts, then throws on a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and runs downstairs to get a towel.

“Louis, don’t forget to put sun cream on,” his mum warns. Yielding a tube of it, she walks over to where he stands in front of the linen closet and begins to rub it onto his shoulders.

“Mum!” he whines, swatting her hands away. “I’m almost sixteen. I can do it myself!”

She rolls her eyes at him, but hands him the tube anyway. He takes it and begins applying the sun cream.

Once he's finished and feeling sticky from head to toe, Louis hops into the passenger seat, and he and his mum try to find their way to Harry’s house. Louis knows they’re at the right place when he sees Harry sitting on the front porch wearing a  _Footloose_ t-shirt and bright yellow swim shorts. Louis rolls down the window.

“C’mon in,” he calls out.

Harry clambers into the backseat. Louis' mum begins to drive.

“Is the lake warm?” Harry asks.

Louis snickers. “Not really.”

“Is it pretty?”

“I guess so.”

Louis reaches over and turns the dial up on the radio. When the music starts, Louis hums along to Bananarama’s “Cruel Summer”.

“D’you know this one?” he asks Harry.

“I do, actually! I think it was in _The_ _Karate_ _Kid_.”

They remain seated, chatting quietly and listening to the music for the remainder of the trip. At last, they arrive at Lake Michigan.

“I’ll be coming back to get you around five-thirty, okay?” Louis' mum informs him. He gives her a thumbs-up. Then, he removes his boombox and a small rucksack from the car. He waves at his mum as she drives away.

The warm sand rubs between their toes as Louis and Harry walk down onto the beach. The water laps lightly against the shore, and a soft breeze sways the tall grass scattered along the coast. There's a group at the beach much further away, and Louis can hear the faintest sounds of the people laughing and talking.

Louis gestures to his bag.

“You wanna pick a mixtape from in there?” he asks Harry.

“Sure.”

Harry sifts through the cassettes. Louis pulls off his shirt and grabs a deflated beach ball from the bag, pretending that he doesn’t feel exposed in front of Harry. Without the layer of clothing serving as a physical barrier, it feels like Harry can see right through him. He starts blowing up the beach ball.

“How about this one?” Harry asks. He holds up a cassette for Louis to look at.

Louis nods. The once-over Harry gives his torso before putting the tape into the boombox does not go unnoticed. Louis wonders what it was for - does he think Louis is in good shape? Bad shape? Is he too pale? Too scrawny?

The first song on the mixtape is The Jam’s “Town Called Malice”.

“Oh, this is a good one,” Louis tells Harry happily. Then, he vaults the beach ball towards him like a volleyball. Harry dives and misses it.

“Stop laughing!” he pleads, but he’s smiling, too. His dimpled cheeks have turned pink with embarrassment.

They continue tossing the ball back and forth, playing keep-up for quite some time. Louis' skin becomes slick with sweat and sun cream, and after a half hour he decides it's time to get into the water.

“Coming?” he asks Harry.

“Uh… yes.”

Harry slowly pulls off his shirt. Louis tries his best not to stare.

They spend the rest of the afternoon splashing the cool lake water at each other, playing with the beach ball, and baking in the heat as they lie on their towels. The sun hangs high in the sky. Louis feels like it gets hotter every minute, and even after wading in the cold lake for ages, a thick layer of perspiration coats his body. He and Harry listen to his mixtapes and talk about their favorite genres. Louis recommends a few of the new wave artists he likes, and in return, Harry offers to take Louis to the movies with him sometime. Louis ignores the way his heart sinks when he realizes that going to the movies with Harry could never be as romantic as he wants it to be.

Around 4:00PM, Louis takes out a pack of cigarettes.

“D’you smoke?” he asks. He takes a cigarette out and puts it into his mouth, lighting the end.

"Sometimes." He pauses. "Can I have one now, actually? If you don't mind."

"Not at all."

Louis takes another one out and hands it to Harry. He tosses him the lighter.

“I try not to smoke too often," Harry says. He takes a drag. "It makes my asthma act up. I think my mum and stepdad know I do it, but they’ll take ‘em away if I buy any. I know they’re just looking out for me."

At 5:30, Louis' mum arrives. They sit together in the back of the car.

"Harry, would you like to come over for dinner?" Louis' mum asks.

“Oh, no - I couldn’t make you feed me after you drove me out here, Mrs. Tomlinson,” Harry replies.

“Nonsense. You can use the phone to call your parents and tell them where you are, if you’d like.”

“Okay. Thank you for the invite.” He looks over at Louis and shrugs. “Guess I’m staying for dinner.”

—

As soon as they arrive, Harry makes a quick call to his parents, letting them know he's going to be staying for dinner. Once he's finished, Louis leads him upstairs.

“I apologize; my room is a bit untidy,” Louis says as he pushes open the door.

Harry thinks "untidy" is a terrible word to describe Louis' room; it's more like a masterpiece. There are posters of bands plastered over almost every inch of every wall, enough that Harry can't tell what color the room is painted. A keyboard sits in one corner, and a small amp and two guitars – one acoustic, one electric – are propped up against another. An enormous shelf unit stands against one wall, with records spilling out of every cubby. A record player sits on the small dresser next to it. The desk is cluttered, the bed is unmade, and there are clothes on the floor, but it doesn’t feel dirty at all. Louis’ bedroom feels like it belongs to a creator - an  _artist_.

“What do you  _do_ in here?” Harry asks, awe-filled, as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Listen to music.”

Harry points to the guitars. “What are those for, then?”

“To make music.”

“You make music?”

“Yeah. I mostly just do covers.”

“‘Mostly covers’…” Harry’s eyes widen. “You write songs?”

Louis looks uncomfortable, but he replies, “Um, yes. I write sometimes.” He begins browsing his enormous record collection, clearly looking for something in particular. He runs his fingers along the spines, muttering the band names under his breath.

Harry wants to ask Louis if he’ll play him a song or two, but he decides against it. Louis seems uneasy about the topic, and Harry figures he’d appear a bit more enthusiastic if he were willing to share his music. Maybe some other time.

“You know, I love movies, but I’ve never written a real screenplay or anything. It takes a lot of skill to write your own material.”

“Thank you.” Louis smiles.

He appears to have found the record he was searching for. He carefully pulls it off the shelf and places the vinyl onto his record player. It begins to spin and crackle. As soon as Harry hears the first guitar riff, he recognizes the song.

“Hey, I know this one! This is from _The_ _Breakfast_ _Club_ ,” he says. He leans back, lying flat on top of the navy blue comforter. “Absolutely fantastic film. I could go on about it for, like,  _ages_.”

“Then do it.”

“Huh?”

Louis lies down next to Harry, the bed shifting under the new weight. Harry fights hard to ignore the butterflies fluttering about in his stomach.

“Do it. Tell me  _all_ about  _The Breakfast Club_ ,” Louis says, looking Harry in the eyes. Harry finds this gesture extremely intimidating - it feels as though Louis’ intense gaze is piercing right through him.

“It’s just… it’s so raw and real. Adults don’t understand what we go through - they all forget what it’s like to be our age. But John Hughes? He really gets it, you know? He gets that the jocks and the nerds and the yuppies and the whatever-else’s are all going through the same shit at heart, and that we all feel the same pressure from the older generations. And this song…” He closes his eyes for a moment. “It perfectly sums up the movie. Each of those guys is pleading with the others not to forget what they went through together.”

Harry’s not sure whether he’s ever gotten to talk about a film this much before. Louis listens so intently, fully invested in what he has to say, and Harry’s not sure that’s ever happened before. Louis offers his own commentary on _The_ _Breakfast_ _Club_ as well, and they find themselves involved in a deep conversation about the film. In fact, they are still discussing it when Louis’ mum enters the room and tells them it’s time for dinner.

Reluctantly, Harry gets up, following Louis down the staircase.

* * *

August 28th, 1985

Despite the fact that Harry has known Louis for less than three weeks, he is positive that Louis is the best friend he's ever had. They spend every single day together, and Harry learns something new about him every day. They have discussions about life, and about movies, and which song on the radio they like most, and Harry adores every minute of it.

Today, they take their seats at their usual lunch table and talk about the bogus Geometry assignment they've been given to do tonight. Harry hears laughter from the jocks' table.

“Louis, I have a question,” he says, putting down his pencil. He's been finishing up a sketch of Luke Skywalker that he started this morning.

“Yeah?” Louis responds. He takes a bite of his sandwich.

"How come you don’t hang out with them - the popular kids? Why do they hate you so much?"

Louis looks like he hasn’t expected this question at all, and he certainly appears as though he does not want to answer it. “I… I guess I just don’t like what they stand for. They don’t care about things that matter, like music. And films,” he adds, looking up at Harry. “And I - well, I suppose they don't like that I don't fit in. They don't want to associate with anyone different than them. Personally, I think there's so much more to be gained from meeting people different from yourself."

Harry can tell that Louis is omitting something from his story, but he nods instead of pushing the subject further. He doesn't want to scare Louis off - not when they've been on such good terms so far.

“Besides," Louis adds, "I think I enjoy my present company a lot more.” He and Harry both bite back smiles. Harry can feel himself blushing, the pink flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks.

He giggles. “Imagine if you were friends with  _Chad._ All you would talk about all day would be American football and which of the cheerleaders you want to bang.”

“Gag me with a  _spoon_.” Louis laughs heartily. “I’d rather eat my own shit!”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“Fuck off!”

They're laughing obnoxiously loud, and Harry's sides begin to hurt.

A deep voice that decidedly does not belong to Louis abruptly growls, "Did I hear you talking about me, English?"

Harry supposes he and Louis were talking louder than they thought they were.

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?” Louis says, turning around in his seat. Chad looms in front of him.

“I’m gonna beat the living shit out of you.”

Harry spots Louis flinching at the threat.

“Step off, Chad,” Louis orders. He stands up.

“ _You_ step off.”

“Bite me, shitface!”

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little queer?”

With a strangled yell, Louis lunges towards the bully. However, Chad is expecting it, and he punches Louis in the stomach. When Louis makes another attempt to strike him, Chad hits his face. They continue having a go at each other, and Harry only sees a whirlwind of flying fists.

“Hey, stop that!” he shouts. He walks closer to the fight, despite his heart hammering away in his chest. “You know, I bet Louis’ never done anything to you! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size—?!”

Harry's cut off by the agonizing pain of two hands slamming into his chest, hurling him backwards into a table.

"Stay out of this!" Chad yells. The back of Harry's head bangs on the edge of the table. He begins to feel dizzy.

Harry hears the vague sounds of a teacher telling the boys to knock it off. The teacher breaks up the fight and tells Louis to go to the nurse. Louis notices that Harry has also been injured, and he wraps an arm around his shoulders as he leads him down the empty hallways. He's saying something, but Harry is seeing spots and is having trouble focusing on his words.

“What?” Harry asks. He rubs the spot that hit the table, shooting pain through his head.

“I only congratulated you on surviving your first fight.” Louis pauses. “That _was_ your first fight, wasn’t it?”

Harry nods, still holding his head.

“You got a nasty shove, too; I saw it happen.”

“What about you?” He finally looks up and sees Louis’ bruised face. It puts Harry in even more pain to see him like this. His hair is disheveled, his knuckles and jaw are turning various shades of purple, and there's a small cut on his lip.

“I’m fine. This wasn’t the first time he’s hit me, and it won’t be the last.”

“But—”

“I’m  _fine_ , Harry.” He offers Harry a comforting smile as they sit down in the waiting room of the nurse’s office.

Louis sighs. “I’m going to have to miss work tonight. My boss doesn't like it when I show up with injuries from fights - he says it doesn't provide a good image to customers.”

"If you want, you can come over and watch a film.”

He nods. “That sounds good. And, um – I know I’ve said this before, but it’s awesome of you to defend me. You really don’t have to.”

“I want to. You’re my friend, and friends have to have each other’s backs.”

He nods. Not long after, the school nurse calls them into her office.

—

“Whoa, you have a TV in your room?” Louis asks, sitting cross-legged on the bed. Harry watches as he observes the entire room from wall to wall, taking it in, though there isn’t much to see.

“Says the one whose room contains an entire rock band,” Harry retorts, a smile on his face. “But, yes. I have a TV in my room.”

“Gnarly.”

A couple of drawings are hung up by Harry's desk, and he notices Louis surveying them. He has some movie posters hung up, too, but the walls are far barer than Louis’. Harry's mum doesn’t like lots of posters on the walls.

Harry clears his throat. “You can pick a film, if you want.” He points to his shelf filled with neatly stored VHS tapes.

Louis stands up and looks at the titles in Harry's collection.

“Hmm…” He smiles and takes one out. “ _Grease_?”

“I  _love_ that movie.”

Louis smiles. "I have the soundtrack."

“Me, too.”

Louis slides the tape into the VHS player, and it goes in with a 'click'. The end credits begin to roll on the screen.

“Damn it, I forgot to rewind the tape last time I watched,” Harry swears. He watches as Louis presses 'rewind' on the player.

“How about this: I’ll ask you questions while we wait,” Louis suggests. “So we can get to know each other better.”

Harry nods.

“Who’s your favorite band?”

“Uh… I dunno. I don’t listen to that much music. Maybe the Beatles or Fleetwood Mac. I like Pink Floyd, too. What about you?”

Louis sighs. “There are too many. Duran Duran, The Cars, The Cure, New Order, Tears for Fears, The Smiths... lots of new wave. The bands you said are pretty rad, too, though - I like rock 'n roll as well.”

"Now  _I_ want to ask a question," Harry tells him. "Favorite color?"

“Red, maybe?”

"Mine is orange." He pauses. His favorite color is actually pink, but he tends to get called a pansy when tells it to people. He decides to keep it a secret from Louis, too. "Favorite film?"

“ _Footloose_.”

Harry snickers. “Of  _course_ your favorite film is the one with the bitchin’  _soundtrack_.”

Louis puts his hands up in defense. “Hey, it’s a good film! What's yours, then?”

“Mine changes a lot, but my current favorite is  _Back to the Future_ , I think.”

They continue to talk for another couple minutes or so, exchanging questions back and forth. The tape finally reaches the beginning, and Harry sits on the bed next to Louis to watch it with him. Harry does his Danny Zuko impression, which makes Louis laugh, and they laugh and joke and sing along to all of the songs. By the time the film is over, Louis has to head home for dinner.

"I had a lot of fun," Louis says. He stands on Harry's front porch. "We should watch a movie together again sometime."

Harry beams, his heart skipping a beat. "We should." He clears his throat. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah." Louis waves and walks off the porch. Harry looks on as Louis grabs his bike and rides away.

* * *

September 27th, 1985

It's a chilly Friday afternoon in East Chicago, and Harry and Louis are almost done with school for the day. They only have to survive through last period: gym class.

Gym class is a hell of a lot scarier in Indiana than it was back in Holmes Chapel. All the bigger boys pick on the smaller boys, meaning Harry and Louis usually get picked last for any games they play in class. And don’t even get Harry  _started_ on dodgeball, otherwise known as the most violent and traumatizing game Harry has ever played. He still has a bruise on his shin from a particularly harsh game they played two weeks ago.

Unfortunately for anyone smaller than six feet tall, his gym class is playing dodgeball again today, and Harry is far from excited.

The students have all changed into their gym clothes and are huddled in a group. Autumn is in full swing now, and there’s a draft blowing through the gymnasium. Harry feels goosebumps raise along his arms and legs.

“Alright, boys!” Coach Carter shouts. He never speaks at an indoor volume. “Stanton! McCann! Pick teams!”

Stanton is a guy named Johnny, and McCann is a kid whose first name Harry doesn’t know. Even the guy's friends just call him McCann. They seem like decent enough people, but they’re in with the popular crowd, so Harry doesn’t really know them.

The two boys begin picking teams, taking turns to choose their teammates. Fortunately, Harry and Louis end up on the same team – they’re with McCann.

When the whistle blows, the game commences.

Dodgeball is as brutal as ever. Harry and Louis have learned that huddling in the back of the gym and talking is a terrible danger to their physical safety, as it makes them prime targets. Instead, they watch out for each other, warning one other of incoming dodgeballs in order to avoid injuries. At this point, they’ve become very skilled dodgers.

“Harry, watch out!” Louis yells as a ball comes racing towards him. Harry ducks, and it narrowly misses his head.

He gives Louis a thumbs-up.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry spots a ball speeding towards Louis. He instinctively pushes Louis out of the way, but the ball smacks Harry right in the stomach. He lets out an “oof!”.

“Harry! Oh, my God, are you okay?!” Louis asks.

“I’m…” Harry tries, but the impact has knocked the wind out of him.

A ball whacks Louis in the shoulder. He flips the bird at his assailant, then accompanies Harry in walking to the sidelines.

“Really, Harry, are you okay?”

“…I’m alright,” he finally breathes out. “Lost my breath for a minute. Need my inhaler.”

Louis follows him into the locker room. Harry unlocks number 628 and grabs his inhaler from within it. He takes a couple breaths in.

“Hey, Harry, are you going to the homecoming dance?” Louis asks him.

“I guess so. Do I need a date to go? ‘Cause I don’t have a date.”

“No, of course you don’t need a date.”

“I guess I’ll be going, then. Is it fun?”

“Yeah, last year’s was pretty fun.”

Harry nods. “It’s next Saturday, right?”

“Yep.”

From inside the locker room, Harry hears that their team has won the dodgeball game. Coach Carter calls everyone back onto the court to start a new match.

“You ready to go back out?” Louis asks.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go.”

* * *

October 5th, 1985

Louis adjusts his black tie and gives himself a once-over in the mirror. After some thought, he decides to cuff the sleeves of his white button-up and tousle his hair a bit. He slips on a pair of Chuck Taylors.

“Louis! Harry’s here!” his mum calls out from downstairs.

He quickly adjusts his hair once more and exits the room. He closes the door behind him.

Louis stops halfway down the stairs when he sees Harry - who looks even more handsome than usual - and tries to control himself. He can feel his blood rushing to places it shouldn’t. Harry’s hair is even more well-kept than usual, with no stray curls threatening to break away from his ‘do. His light blue pinstriped shirt hugs his torso nicely, complimented by beige slacks and a little brown bowtie.

When Louis has descended the staircase and stands before Harry, he laces his fingers together and lets his hands fall in front of him, attempting to casually conceal the spot where his slacks have become a little tighter in the front.

“You look nice,” he says, trying to think platonic thoughts.

“You, too.”

“Be home before 11:00, okay, Louis?” Louis' mum says. “And try to be quiet when you come in. I don’t want you waking the little ones.”

“Of course.” Once again, he faces Harry. “Come along, then.” Louis nods towards the door.

Harry walks back out the door to grab his bike, and Louis sighs with relief when he’s no longer facing him. No fake – if Harry had seen that he'd gotten a boner in front of him, Louis probably would’ve crawled into a hole and died.

They bike to East Chicago High together, locking their bikes onto the rack at the front of the school. Louis can hear music playing in the gym.

When they walk in, the homecoming dance is already in full swing. There are plenty of people, and they’re all dancing and talking to their friends. The Human League is blasting over the sound system. Lights flash in every color, and a DJ sits on the stage at the front. Girls’ dresses are big, and their hair is even bigger.

Louis and Harry walk into the throng of people and begin to dance. Harry's long, lanky legs throw him off balance a bit, so his dance moves are slightly uncoordinated, but it’s endearing and he appears to be having fun.

David Bowie’s “Modern Love” comes on, and Louis grins. He  _loves_ this song!

“This is such a good song!” he tells Harry over the music.

Harry nods. “I like it, too!”

After many songs have played, they make their way over to the drinks table. They’re both a tad sweaty, and the product in Harry’s hair has begun to un-stick, letting little curls begin to escape. He’s untied his bowtie, and the top two or so buttons of his shirt are undone. His smile is wide, and the only proper word Louis can think of to describe him at the moment is  _sexy_. Sexier than a gangly fifteen-year-old should be allowed to look.

“Having fun?” Louis asks, taking a sip of the punch.

“Yeah. I didn’t think I would, but I am.” He’s panting, and his grin remains plastered to his face. It’s really, really difficult for Louis not to stare or grab Harry's face and kiss him. _I swear to God, if I get a boner again I’m going to leave town,_ Louis thinks.

This is bogus. Never before has Louis been so unable to control himself around a boy. Harry has an effect on him that he can’t explain, and while it’s a nice feeling, it’s a feeling that’s going to drag Louis out of the closet if he's not careful.

“Just tell me if you want to leave early,” Louis says.

“Okay.”

He takes another sip of his drink, and so does Harry.

“I think someone’s already spiked the punch,” Louis observes. “It tastes like alcohol.”

“I agree.” Harry furrows his brow and stares down at the drink he’s holding, then says, “Screw it.” He downs the entire cup as Louis watches in amazement.

Louis follows suit. A little party buzz never hurt anyone.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Louis sees a girl walking towards him.  _Shit_. It’s Danielle, Chad’s old girlfriend. Yeah, the one who ruined his social life because she had a crush on him, and now her ex-boyfriend torments him on the daily.

Much to Louis' surprise, she sweeps right past him and stops between he and Harry. Now he's even more angry.

“Hey,” she says to Harry, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I’m Danielle.”

“Uh… I’m Harry.”

“Do you wanna dance together?”

 _Please say no, please say no,_ please  _say no!_

“I’m good, actually. Maybe another time?” Harry responds.

She looks mad at being turned down, but she says okay, then walks away with a wink at Harry.

“Don’t trust that bitch,” Louis grumbles to Harry. “She’s Chad’s ex-girlfriend. Looks like she thought you were going to be her next victim.”

“Oh. I don’t like her, anyway. She always tries to cheat off of me in Spanish class.”

Louis sighs with relief. “Good.”

“…I especially don’t like her now that you told me who she is. I wouldn’t screw you over by hanging out with a girl you don’t like.”

Louis smiles at him. “Thanks, mate.”

He nods. “You ready to dance some more?”

“You bet I am.”

They head back to the dance floor.

—

Harry doesn’t have much experience with girls. Almost every friend he's ever made has been a boy, and since he doesn’t fancy girls, he's never really had any reason to talk to one. (Besides, like, his sister.) So, when Danielle came over to talk to him, he wasn’t really sure how to interact with her. He's a little awkward around girls.

In short, he's actually pretty grateful to Louis for telling him not to talk to her, since he didn’t really want to in the first place.

Enough about girls, though; Harry would much rather talk about  _Louis_. The way he dances, and the way his hair stays pristine even while he dances, and the way he’s a little sweaty but he’s smiling anyway. Harry didn’t know anyone their age could look so good, and yet here Louis is, like some kind of modern teenage Adonis who knows the words to every song the DJ plays.

When Harry and Louis take another break, Harry looks around and notices that a lot of the boys and girls are pretty dirty dancers, especially since the punch is spiked. They all grind up on each other and make out on the dance floor.

Harry's thoughts drift to places they shouldn’t go to, and he's soon imagining what it could be like if he and Louis were to dance like that together. It’d probably be fun; everyone looks like they’re having a good time.

Now Harry's a little sad, thinking about what could be.

“The dance is over in, like, less than 20 minutes; d’you want to go now?” Louis asks, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. “All we’re gonna miss is homecoming royalty.”

“Uh… sure.”

Harry follows him outside till they reach the bike rack. It’s pretty chilly out, and Harry rubs his arms in an attempt to warm himself up.

Louis takes out a cigarette and lights it with a lighter that he takes from his pocket.

Harry rolls his eyes. “You made me stand out in the cold with you so you could have a smoke?”

“Well, I didn’t want to be out here all by myself.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, but he's smiling. “Can I have one?”

“‘Course you can.”

Louis hands him a cigarette, and when he lights it for him, it feels strangely intimate.

“Did you have fun?” Louis asks, blowing out a puff of smoke.

“Yeah. I don’t think I would’ve liked it if you weren’t there, though.”

It’s dark out. However, under the dim light of a distant streetlamp, Harry sees Louis’ cheeks turn pink as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

“Aw, you’re blushing,” Harry says.

“Am not! You do talk some shit, Harry; it’s just cold out.” Louis huffs, and smoke unfurls from his mouth and nostrils.

Harry shakes his head. “I know what I saw.”

He knocks his hip against Harry's in an attempt to shove him, but it just ends up sending a sharp pain through both of their hips, and they laugh.

“Dickweed,” Harry teases. He lightly shoves the side of Louis' head with his hand. But, when his fingers skim over his hair, he pulls his hand away quickly. Louis’ hair is soft - softer than Harry had imagined it to be. (Not that he's imagined what Louis’ hair feels like.)

Louis looks up at him with his cigarette between his fingers. They're suddenly very close, and neither of their mouths are preoccupied at the moment. If Harry had the courage to do so, he could easily kiss him.

Instead of doing  _that_ , which would be totally idiotic, Harry takes another drag.  _Don’t kid yourself, Harry_ , his conscience tells him.  _It’s not happening. Not. Happening._

“What’s not happening?” Louis asks.

 _Fuck_.

“Oh, I was thinking about how I want it to rain,” Harry lies, “but there aren’t any clouds. Not happening.”

“Nope.” Louis looks up at the sky, squinting past the light of the streetlamps. His eyes shine a bright blue under the light. “Hopefully we’ll get a bit more rain before the snow kicks in, though.”

Harry nods.

Silence. Harry then clears his throat and says, “So… I get the feeling there’s more to the ‘Chad and his ex-girlfriend’ story than you’re letting on. Do you… maybe wanna talk about it?”

Louis takes a very long drag from his cigarette. There are a few fading cuts on his face from a week or two ago – he and Chad had another fight.

“Chad and I were friends in middle school, when I first moved here. As we neared the end of eighth grade, we kinda drifted apart. No huge fight or anything – we just didn’t really bond anymore, y’know?”

This earns a nod from Harry.

“Anyway, some of his old friends and I still hung out, and others stayed with Chad. When we got into high school last year, Danielle started crushing on me, and Chad got really angry. He and his friends ganged up on me, and soon enough,  _my_ friends – who still hung out with Chad every once in a while – thought Danielle was cheating on her boyfriend with me.

“Those friends picked Chad’s side, too, because… well, if I thought one of my friends was hooking up with my other friend’s girl, I’d leave him, too.”

Louis puts his cigarette to his lips and takes another breath in. “That’s partly why I wanted to be your friend so badly,” he says. “By the end of freshman year, all of my other close friends left me for Chad.”

Harry replies, “I’m so sorry, Louis.”

“It’s alright. I’m over it –  _really_ ,” he adds when he sees Harry's disbelieving look.

“Like… really, really over it?”

“Really, really over it.”

“Okay. ‘Cause it’s okay not to be over it. I’d be pretty fucking sad if all my friends ditched me for some asshole.”

Louis laughs. “You really know how to lighten the mood, don’t you, Harry?”

Harry finds himself chuckling with him. “I sure do.”

After another few minutes, they put out their cigarettes and head home.

* * *

October 16th, 1985

“C’mon, Louis, sing me a song!” Harry begs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me! You told me you write songs. Why won’t you sing me one?”

“‘Cause I don’t want to.”

Harry frowns. “Why not?”

“I, uh…”  _I’m very insecure about my singing voice,_ Louis thinks. “I’m tired! You may have noticed that we’re walking home from where I  _work_. And, before that, we were at school. I’m knackered.”

“I call bullshit. You don’t even work that many hours.”

“You’re exhausting,” Louis sighs, kicking off his shoes at the front door. Harry is still yammering away as he follows him upstairs. Louis deposits his backpack on the floor by his bed.

“…and I understand you wouldn’t want to share that kind of thing with a  _stranger_ , but you’re my best friend! We’ve known each other for more than two months and we spend every day together and—”

“Stop talking.” Louis turns around and looks at Harry. Harry's eyebrows are raised, and his big, green eyes are filled with anticipation. How can Louis refuse that pretty face? “I’ll sing you a song.”

“Righteous!” He pumps his fist in the air.

Hands shaking, Louis walks over to the corner where he keeps his bass and plugs it into his amp. Then, he sits on the bed with it. With a sigh, Louis begin to play.

After a few bars, he hears Harry say, “Stop.”

Louis looks up at him, terrified.

“That was that one song by Hall & Oates… uh, ‘Maneater’, I think.”

“Yeah. So?”

“You didn’t write that song. I want you to play me one of  _your_ songs.”

Louis swallows. There’s no use arguing with Harry; he’s too damn stubborn. “Okay.”

Slowly, fingers still trembling with fear, Louis puts the bass back and grabs his electric guitar instead. He plugs it in and sets it on the bed.

Then, he walks over to his shelves. On the very top – hidden from view, and too tall for anyone in his family to reach – is his notebook, filled with any and every song he's ever written. He usually has to stand on his desk chair to reach it, but he feels embarrassed about getting a chair in front of Harry, so he stands on his tiptoes and reaches as far as his arms will go.

The chair would’ve been less embarrassing than what happens next.

Harry walks over, lifts himself up a bit on his toes, sees what Louis is trying to reach, then takes it down and hands it to him without a hassle. Bless that tall, handsome angel boy’s heart.

Louis' face is bright red; he just knows it.

“Um… thanks,” he says, clearing his throat.

Louis opens the book to one of his songs, sits down, and picks up the guitar. Harry turns the desk chair around, deposits himself in it, and watches Louis' every move.

“This is… ‘Stand Up’.”  _It’s about you_ , Louis longs to add.

He clears my throat and begins to play the guitar. “ _From the moment I met you, everything changed / I knew I had to get you, whatever the pain…_ ”

He continues singing, and, soon enough, he forgets that he has an audience. He gets lost in the music, as he usually does when he sings.

It’s a kind of simple song, about meeting someone and immediately falling for them, then feeling like you  _have_ to have their heart in return for them stealing yours away. That’s pretty much how Louis feels about Harry.

“ _…So put your hands up / Oh oh oh oh oh, ‘cause it’s a stand up / And I won’t be leaving / Till I’ve finished stealing every piece of your heart, every piece of your heart._ ”

He takes deep breath and looks up. Harry’s mouth is gaping, and his eyes are bugging out of his head.

“ _Louis_ …” he says slowly.

“Shit, was I that bad? I told you, I’m not good at th—”

“That was  _amazing_ ,” Harry interrupts.

“…I’m really sorry you had to hear me— wait, what did you just say?”

“I said… that was  _amazing_.”

Louis feels blood rush to his face. (He can’t  _believe_ how many times he's blushed since he and Harry met.) “It was?”

“Louis… you have a  _fantastic_  voice. That was  _ace_ , mate. And you wrote that song yourself?”

He nods his head.

Harry's look of awe has transformed into a beautiful grin. “You’re, like, talented as fuck, Louis!”

Louis feels like he could cry. “I am?”

“Yes! Oh, my God, why didn’t I force you to sing to me sooner? You could be the next Bono or something!”

“Aw, shucks, Harry, I—”

“No, wait, you’ve gotta be a little more alternative than Bono. Bowie! You, Louis Tomlinson, could be the next David Bowie. I’m placing my bets now.”

Louis is still blushing furiously. “Thanks, mate. I… it, uh, means a lot to me to hear you say that.”

He nods eagerly. “I can come with you on tour! I’ll, like, film all your concerts and stuff and I’ll make a film about you. No, wait – I’ll write a script that involves a guy who likes to sing and you can play the lead. And the soundtrack can be all of your original songs…”

Harry talks on and on, as he sometimes tends to do when he gets excited. It’s a big improvement from the shyness he displayed when they first became friends. Louis has put his guitar down and is trying to listen to him, but he's become preoccupied by how excited Harry is about this. Also, Harry's lips won’t stop moving, and they’re very pink and distracting. It’s dangerous, but Louis can’t help himself, and he begins to lean forward just a little bit…

“Mum wants me to ask you if you want a snack,” Louis' sister Lottie says as she opens the door. Louis freezes in place and pretends he wasn’t just about to try to kiss his best friend.

“Yes, please; have you got any fruit?” Harry asks. He’s oblivious to the fact that _Louis_ _almost just kissed him._ Holy shit. That was… a very close call.

Louis gets a bad little feeling in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t have begun to do that in the first place. He shouldn’t have risked outing himself to Harry like that. Harry’s  _straight_. Heterosexual. Fancies women.

“Louis?” Lottie asks.

“Uh… I’ll just, er, share with Harry.”

She nods and leaves the room. Louis inhales deeply.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks. “You look a little shaken.”

“Oh, no, no – I’m… I’m okay. I got a little flustered by all the ideas you were throwing at me.”

Harry blushes. “Oops.”

 _Fuck you, Harry Styles. Fuck you and your adorable face for making me want to kiss you so badly,_ Louis thinks.

“It’s fine, I swear. Also, we should probably go downstairs. You know my mum doesn’t like food in my room.”

Harry nods, and they go to the kitchen.

* * *

October 17th, 1985

“Mum! Mum, Mum, Mum!” Louis shouts, racing into the house after work. “The Cure is playing in Chicago tomorrow night! Please, please,  _please_ , you  _have_ to let me go see them!”

“I don’t  _have_ to do anything,” she responds firmly. “Which band is this? I can’t keep up with all of them.”

“The Cure!”

“In Chicago?”

“Yeah.”

“I suppose your stepdad could take you… but you can’t go by yourself.”

“Can I see if Harry’s available?”

“… Sure. See if he can go. If he can’t, you’re not going.”

He nods and grabs the phone, then dials Harry’s number.

“ _Hullo?_ ” an English lady says.

“Um, hullo, it’s Louis.”

“ _Oh, hi, Louis. It’s Harry’s mum._ ”

“May I ask you about, um… well, you see, there’s this concert in Chicago tomorrow night, and I was wondering if Harry might be able to accompany me.”

“ _What band is it?_ ”

“The Cure. Harry should know of them - we’ve listened to them together before.”

“ _I suppose he can. Let me put him on. Harry, dear, Louis is on the phone!_ ”

Louis hears some fumbling around, and Harry says, “ _Hullo?_ ”

“Harry, d’you want to go see The Cure in Chicago tomorrow night with me? I know you don’t know much by them, but Mum won’t let me go by myself.”

“ _Yeah, sure! Did my mum say I’m free?_ ”

“Mhm.”

“ _Cool. What time are you gonna pick me up?_ ”

“‘Round 5:00.”

“ _See you then!_ ”

Harry hangs up.

* * *

October 18th, 1985

This is the only concert Harry's ever been to, and he must say, it’s been quite an experience so far. The audience is screaming, smoking, drinking, and wearing black. His blue jeans, white Chuck Taylors, and  _Star Wars_ t-shirt make him really stand out in the crowd. Louis, of course, was much more prepared than Harry was. He’s decked out in dark eyeliner, a black Cure t-shirt, and black, skinny black pants. His hair is wilder than normal, mimicking that of The Cure’s lead singer.

Harry thinks Louis looks hot as hell. (His ass looks fabulous in those trousers.)

“Well, Chicago, you seem to be having a lot of fun!” the lead singer says after finishing the previous song. “This next song is our newest single, and I want to hear every single person here singing along! This is ‘In Between Days’!”

The crowd screams again.

“God, I  _love_ this song,” Louis tells Harry. “I could listen to it a million times, and it’d just get better every time.”

Harry – surprisingly – knows every word of this song, mostly because he's pretty sure Louis has  _actually_ listened to it a million times. He made Harry buy  _The Head On The Door_ , too, and he's listened to the song on his own. So, Harry sings along.

“ _Yesterday, I got so old I felt like I could die / Yesterday, I got so old it made me want to cry / Go on, go on, just walk away / Go on, go on, your choice is made…_ ”

 _It’s fun, knowing all the words to a song and being able to sing with thousands of other people,_ Harry muses.

The concert goes on, and before Harry knows it, they’ve made it to the last song: “Sinking”. Everyone puts their lighters in the air and waves them back and forth, including Louis, so Harry follows suit. This is pretty rad, too; the show of lights is amazing.

When the song ends, Harry begins to walk away towards the exit. Louis grabs his arm.

“What d’you think you’re doing?” Louis asks with a laugh.

“They said the concert was over,” Harry replies, confused.

Louis laughs again, and Harry feels a bit self-conscious.

“If we all shout ‘encore’, they’ll come back,” he informs him.

“They will?”

Louis nods. “There could still be another, like, hour left of the concert if the crowd wants it.”

“Oh. Okay!”

Harry stands next to him and watches eagerly as the audience begs for an encore.

After five or so minutes, they hear music begin to play. The crowd goes insane, and the music eventually transitions into the song “Six Different Ways”. (Harry has to ask Louis what the name of the song is.)

There are two more encores before the band tells them that they’ve really got to leave.

“Did you enjoy it?” Louis asks while they walk out. Louis has got a cigarette dangling from his lips, and, combined with the rest of his outfit, it makes him look _gorgeous_. Harry wants to pull him into the nearest room and pin him up against the wall.

“Yeah… definitely enjoyed it…” Harry says, looking Louis up and down. He realizes he's totally checking Louis out and prays he hasn’t noticed.

“Ace! I’ll take you to my next concert, too.”

“Have you been to concerts before?”

“Yeah, let me think… I saw U2 in March, Duran Duran last February, and The Clash last May.”

“Wicked. So, um… what do we do now?”

“This is kinda the worst part… we have to try and find my stepdad’s car, and then we have to make our way out of this parking lot. We won’t be home for a while.”

They search for Louis’ stepdad’s car. It takes them about 15 minutes to find him. Once they’re in the car, they sit in the traffic jam, waiting to leave. They’re stuck in the parking lot for another hour, and it takes around an hour to drive back to East Chicago, so it’s past midnight by the time they get to Louis’ house.

“Will you, um… will you bike back to my house with me?” Harry asks Louis.

“Of course.”

They grab their bicycles and go.

* * *

December 1st, 1985

“Mr. Styles…? Mr. Styles, I asked you a question,” Mr. Hartley says.

Harry looks up from his drawing and stares at the teacher, wide-eyed. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t hear you.” He can feel the eyes of his entire World History class fixed on him, and he feels a pink flush creep up his neck and cheeks.

“Of course you didn’t,” the teacher mutters, rolling his eyes. “Now, would you care to tell me the name of the conqueror who defeated the Persians in 331 B.C.?”

“…Alexander the Great.”

Mr. Hartley sighs. “That’s correct. But, please: next time, try to pay more attention to me. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Harry's teacher begins speaking again, and Harry tunes him out, instead turning back to his drawing. It’s of Han Solo – his favorite  _Star Wars_ character – except for the fact that the head of the figure isn’t Harrison Ford. It’s Louis.

Harry used to always tell himself that, no matter what, he could never fall for a straight boy. It’s just too risky, and it’s not like a straight boy will ever be able to like him back, anyways. But it seems as though he's completely abandoned all of his own rules in favor of devoting all his time to Louis Tomlinson.

Harry thinks about him  _all the time_. At school, he draws pictures of Louis in his notebook as his favorite characters and doodles their names together. At home, he sits on his bed, listening to the mixtapes Louis' given him while he daydreams about him. Harry feels like his heart gets bigger and more full of devotion to Louis every time they talk on the phone after school, or spend the weekends biking to each other’s houses to hang out. Harry just has so many  _feelings_ for Louis, and he can’t stand the fact that he'll never be able to tell him.

He hates this hopeless crush with a burning passion.

School ends, and Harry heads home. It’s a bright, sunny day, though it’s very cold out – the first snow of the season arrived a few days ago. He's wearing one of his favorite jumpers.

When he arrives home, his mum is standing in the kitchen with Gemma, waiting for him. He's a little worried about what she has to say, but he walks towards them.

“Don’t look so scared,” Mum says with a laugh. “I just wanted to ask you something.

“So, kids, you’re aware that your school’s winter holiday is coming up at the end of the month,” she begins, “And I wanted to let you know that we have enough money this year to go on a vacation during your holiday.”

A big grin appears on Harry's face. “That’s—!”

“Let me finish,” she continues. “We won’t be leaving the States. But, your stepdad and I talked, and we thought that we’d let you two decide on a vacation place. You have to  _agree_ , though, or he and I will choose a place, okay?”

Harry and Gemma nod eagerly, excited at the opportunity to go on vacation over the holiday.

Suddenly, the phone rings. Harry walks into the living room to pick it up.

“Hello?”

_“Hey, Harry, it’s Louis!”_

“Oh, hi, Louis!”

_“Guess what?”_

“What?”

_“My parents are taking my family on a vacation over winter holiday, and they said I get to pick where we’re going!”_

Harry laughs.

 _“Why are you laughing?”_  Louis asks.

“Because  _my_ parents are taking  _my_ family on vacation, and they’re letting my sister and I pick where we’re going.”

Now Louis is laughing, too.

_“Harry… we should go on vacation together!”_

Harry gasps. “That’s such a good idea! Okay, where do we want to go?”

_“Um… I’ll get a map of the States from downstairs. Hang on.”_

He hears shuffling on the other end.

Minutes later, Louis picks up his phone again.  _“Alright… where’s a good vacation place for the wintertime?”_

“Um… where do  _you_ think we should go?”

“ _Dunno_.” A beat. “ _What about… isn’t Colorado supposed to be nice in the winter?”_

Harry gasps again. “The mountains! Oh, that sounds lovely – hang on, let me ask my sister.”

He calls out to Gemma. She walks into the living room, and they debate on whether or not they like the sound of Colorado.

“The mountains, Gemma! In Colorado. Doesn’t that sound so wonderful?”

“Yeah, it does, actually. Why?”

“Louis and I want to go on vacation together and I wanted to confirm with you that Colorado was a good choice.”

“I’m okay with it.”

Harry picks the phone up once more. “Go and ask your mum if you can come! Gemma said she’s fine with it.”

_“Gotcha. Be right back.”_

There’s a noise on the other line as Louis sets the phone down.

Minutes later, Louis returns.

 _“It’s done!”_ he says into the phone.

“Holy shit, Louis, we’re going on vacation in the mountains together! This is going to be so much fun! D’you think we’ll get to stay in a fancy lodge? We could try and go skiing – I’d probably be terrible, but it’s worth a shot…”

* * *

December 21st, 1985

It’s around 7:30 at night. Louis spent the whole 2-hour flight talking with Harry, though Harry's older sister – who was sitting in the aisle seat in their row – didn’t appreciate their constant chatter as she tried to take a nap.

Now, they’re checking in at a ski lodge in Aspen, Colorado. It’s dark out, but as they walked in, they got to see all of the pretty streetlights make the snow on the ground glow, and there’s a fire burning in the fireplace in the lobby.

It's freezing outside, so Louis and Harry and all of their sisters sit on the couches by the fireplace while their parents check them in.

“We haven’t even seen it during the daytime, and it’s already beautiful here,” Louis says.

Harry nods. He’s humming along to the song playing softly in the building.

“ _Last Christmas, I gave you my heart / But the very next day, you gave it away / This year, to save me from tears / I’ll give it to someone special_ ,” George Michael croons from hidden speakers.

“Hold on. Do my ears deceive me, or do  _you_ ,  _Harry Styles_ , actually know a song that I haven’t played for you before?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I totally  _love_ Christmas music. This is my favorite Christmas song.”

Louis smiles. “Mine is ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’.”

“You should sing it to me. ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,’ I mean.”

“Haven’t got me instruments.”

“A cappella it is, then.”

“I’m not singing with all these people in here,” Louis replies, though his confidence in his singing voice has most definitely improved since Harry complimented him on his performance for him.

“I suppose we’ll just have to do it another time.” He’s got a devilish smirk dancing on his lips.

“I suppose we will.”

Their banter is feeling a lot like flirting to Louis, and it’s making his heart ache.

“C’mon, everyone, we’ve got to go find our rooms,” Harry’s mum announces. Louis helps gather his sisters so they can head to their room.

* * *

December 22nd, 1985

Harry and Louis' families managed to book all of their rooms in the same building, and Harry thinks that’s pretty rad. Louis’ mum and dad and two youngest sisters are staying in one room; Louis and his other two sisters, Lottie and Fizzy, are staying in another; and Harry's family is in a third room.

The hotel is a collection of one-story lodges. Snow-covered pathways run through the whole facility. There are a few stone steps leading up to the doorways of each suite from the path. And, Harry was right — it’s even more beautiful in the daytime.

Harry's pretty tired from their long day and their flight yesterday, but Louis’ little sisters are all energetic as ever, so his whole family decided to go outside. Louis asked Harry if he wanted to keep him company, and that’s how Harry ended up sitting next to Louis at the top of a hill as Louis' sisters sled down it.

“It’s absolutely stunning here,” Harry comments, looking out at the white-blanketed mountains surrounding them. It’s quite a tall hill they’re on, and the view is perfect, though the snow is beginning to get his trousers wet.

Louis nods his head in agreement. “It’d be nice to bring a fit young bl—” Louis coughs. “—bird here on holiday wouldn’t it? It’s kinda romantic.”

 _Did Louis almost say he’d like to bring a_ bloke  _on a romantic holiday with him?_ No, it can’t be that — Harry must be imagining things.

“Yeah, it is. Who’d you bring, huh?  _Danielle_?” Harry teases.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Never in a million years, mate. I guess I’d just… wait for the right person.”

When Harry remains silent, Louis looks up at him, waiting for a response.

Harry thinks of something random to change the subject. He doesn’t want to talk about dating with Louis - it’s a little painful.

“You should sing me ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’ now,” Harry says.

“No.”

“There’s no one else anywhere near us. Your parents and your sisters are all over there,” he points out, gesturing to the place farther along the top of the hill where Louis' stepdad stands.

Louis groans. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“What’ll happen if I don’t, huh?”

“I’ll go back to my room and leave you out here in the cold. You’ll have to cut a dead Taun Taun open and climb inside its guts to keep warm like Han and Luke.”

Louis looks puzzled. “I don’t remember that ever happening in  _Star Wars_.”

“It was in  _The Empire Strikes Back_. At the beginning of the film.”

“Hm. Well, I guess I don’t want… whatever you just described… to happen.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

He takes a deep breath and clears his throat. “ _Rockin’ around the Christmas tree at the Christmas party hop / Mistletoe hung where you can see / Ev’ry couple tries to stop…_ ”

Louis’ voice is very sweet and delicate, and Harry loves listening to him. Once Louis gets over his initial worry about singing, he really gets into it and seems to enjoy himself.

“… _You will get a sentimental feeling / When you hear voices singing / ‘Let’s be jolly’ / Deck the halls with boughs of holly’…_ ”

When he finishes singing, Harry applauds him. He wraps an arm around his shoulders in a hug.

“You’re so good!” he tells him.

Louis rolls his eyes. Even though the cold has already made his cheeks pink, Harry knows he’s blushing.

“Thanks.”

Harry nods. Louis looks at him happily, and his knit hat – which looks  _adorable_ on him – is lopsided. Harry adjusts it for him.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” he says with a chuckle.

Harry snickers. “No problem.”

“Louis!” a squeaky voice calls out. Harry turns and sees either Daisy or Phoebe – he still can’t tell the twins apart – racing towards them. “Louis, come on the sled with me!”

Harry and Louis' conversation is cut off, and Louis gets up to join his sister.


	2. 1986

January 14th, 1986 

The new year has arrived, and since Louis' return to East Chicago, everything has basically gone back to normal. He's back to working at the record shop, and he and Harry have gone back to school. He turned sixteen over the holiday, and he got his driver’s license a few weeks ago.

Today, he and Harry are biking home from the record store. (Louis' just finished his shift.)

They're approaching the cinema, so Louis asks, “Harry, when are you gonna take me to see a film with you?”

“I dunno. I’ve gotta wait until a good one comes out.”

He nods.

When they reach the cinema, Harry suddenly swerves on his bike, and Louis almost crashes into him. Harry leans his bike up against the wall of the building and runs up to one of the posters displayed on it.

“Louis! Oh, my God, Louis,  _l_ _ook_!” he says excitedly, jumping up and down and pointing at the poster.

Louis dismounts from his bicycle and stands next to his best friend. There’s a big poster on the wall, and it’s promoting a film called _Pretty In Pink_ that’s going to come out on February 28th.

“You want to see a film called _Pretty In Pink_?” Louis asks.

“ _L_ _ouis_. The director is John Hughes!”

He shakes his head. Louis doesn’t know who that is.

“My favorite director of all time? _Sixteen_ _Candles_? _T_ _he_ _Breakfast_ _Club_?”

“Oh, _that’s_ John Hughes.” Louis is distracted by the way Harry’s face lights up when he talks about his favorite director, but he tries to stay involved in the conversation. He takes interest in the things Louis likes, so he thinks it’s only fair that he show interest in the things Harry enjoys. “Are we gonna see it together?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Definitely!”

“Cool.”

Harry grabs his bike and mounts it. “Don’t let me forget: February 28th!” he tells Louis.

“Okay. I won’t forget.”

Louis gets onto his bike and follows after him.

* * *

February 1st, 1986

Louis wakes up around 8:00AM to the sound of the phone ringing. He gets up and trudges over to his desk.

Picking up the phone, he mumbles, “Mhm… hullo?”

“ _Hey, Louis, it’s Harry!_ ”

 _How is he so energetic this early in the morning?_ It’s _Saturday._ Alas, Louis can never resist a conversation with Harry. “Hey. What’s up?”

_“I, um… well, you see, I wanted to go out for my birthday, so my parents gave me some money… but, uh… my stepdad’s unfortunately working today… and I was wondering if you’d be allowed to drive me into Chicago. To go shopping.”_

“Harry… is today your birthday?”

_“Um… yeah.”_

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

 _“I didn’t want you to feel like you_ had _to take me into the city, just ‘cause it’s my birthday.”_

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be there in an hour, tops. I’ll ask my mum if I can borrow her car.”

_“Really?”_

“Yep. See you then!”

Louis hangs up the phone, then goes into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Once he's all ready, he goes downstairs.

“What’s got you awake this early on a Saturday?” his mum asks him when he enters the front of the house. She has the telly on and is drinking a cup of tea.

“Can I borrow your car?” Louis asks hurriedly. “It’s Harry’s birthday, and he needs a ride to Chicago to do some shopping.”

“ _Chicago_?” she asks, cocking an eyebrow. “That’s almost an hour away, sweetie. Why can’t you two go shopping here?”

“ _Because_ , Mum, it’s his _birthday_! You only turn sixteen once.”

She sighs. “You know our phone number, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you know that if _anything_ happens to my car, you’re paying for it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“…I suppose you can go. But, don’t get into any trouble.”

He nods. “I won’t. Thanks, Mum.”

She tells him where the keys to her car are, and he drives to the video store to make a quick stop.

He wanders about in the store, his thoughts drifting to Harry himself instead of what film he thinks Harry would want to own.

Eventually, he spots the perfect film to buy for Harry: _Sixteen Candles_. It’s a funny gift, since this is his sixteenth birthday, and he remembers Harry once telling him that he really wanted a VHS copy of this one.

Louis purchases the gift and gets back into the car, making it to Harry’s house at around 9:00.

He clears his throat and knocks on the door to Harry’s house.

The door opens. There he stands, tall and hunky and wearing what Louis knows is Harry's favorite sweater.

Louis takes a split second to ponder on whether or not he should hug him. He decides to do it – why should he let awkward feelings stop him from being affectionate towards his best friend?

He stands up on his tiptoes and wraps his arms around Harry's neck. “Happy birthday, mate!”

When Harry loops his arms around Louis' waist, returning his hug, Louis feels blood rush to his cheeks. (And to other places he’d rather not discuss.)

“Thanks, Louis.”

Upon breaking away from their hug, he sees that Harry’s cheeks are pink, too.

“I, er… bought you a gift,” Louis informs him. He reaches into his jumper and pulls out the _Sixteen Candles_ VHS.

“Louis! I love it!” He abruptly pulls him in for another hug. “You didn’t have to get me anything, though.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the least a best friend can do. I’m glad you like it.”

They're both beaming at each other.

“I'm gonna put this in my room; then, we can go,” he says. When Louis doesn’t move, he adds, “You can come inside, you know. It’s freezing out here.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Louis sits down on the sofa.

When his friend returns downstairs, Louis digs his keys out of his pocket and hops into the driver’s seat. Harry takes his place at shotgun.

“How come Gemma couldn’t take you shopping? Or your mum?” Louis asks him when he gets the car moving. “On the phone, you only told me your stepdad was working today.”

“Mum and Gemma are doing a university tour,” Harry replies. His voice is laced with melancholy.

“You don’t sound too keen on that idea.”

He sighs. “I’m not.”

“It _is_ pretty rubbish that they had to go on your birthday.”

“Oh, no, I don’t mind that it’s on my birthday – we’re going out for dinner tomorrow night. I just… I know it may not seem like it, since you and I spend so much time together, but Gemma and I are really close. I don’t want her to leave.”

Louis wants to make a comforting gesture, but he doesn’t want to make the situation awkward. He settles for turning on the radio.

“Well, today, you don’t have to worry about that. We’re gonna give you the fucking coolest 16th birthday anyone has ever had, alright?”

Harry smiles. “Alright.”

Louis turns up the radio, and Toto’s playing. This song makes Louis laugh so much. Harry tells him he knows it, too.

“ _I stopped an old man along the way / Hoping to find some long forgotten words or ancient melodies,_ ” Louis sings. “ _He turned to me as if to say / ‘Hurry, boy, it’s waiting there for you!’_ ”

Harry surprises him by singing loudly with him when the chorus starts. (You could even call it shouting, if Louis is being totally honest.)

“ _It’s gonna take a lot to take me away from you! / There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do / I bless the rains down in Africa / Gonna take some time to do the things we never had!_ ”

And so, their drive to Chicago ensues, each of them shouting the lyrics to every song they know as they sit next to their best friend.

—

“The only time I’ve ever been to Chicago was when we came here to see The Cure,” Harry admits. “Is the city nice?”

“‘Is the city nice?’ What kind of question is that?” Louis teases. “Chicago is one of the greatest cities on Earth.”

“Really?”

“I dunno. I’ve only been to, like, two big cities,” he says with a chuckle. “But this place is pretty cool.”

Louis drops the car off at a parking garage, and the two of them walk out into the city.

“I have to be home before 6:00,” Harry says. “Just so you know how much time we have.”

Louis nods.

“I say we should just look around and see if we find any stores, since you wanted to go shopping. And I’ll buy lunch, as your birthday treat.”

Harry’s beaming. “Aw, thanks, mate.”

Louis smiles back at him. “Let’s go.”

They head off through the city. Louis is really enthusiastic, pointing out anything and everything to Harry, and Louis often has to check to make sure he’s still following him. More than anything, Louis wants to just hold his hand.

“Hey, this place looks cool,” Louis says, stopping in front of a mall.

Harry nods in agreement. They find a store inside the mall and begin to look around.

“I kinda like this sweater,” Harry says. It’s striped blue, red, and green.

“Hang on to it; we can go to the dressing rooms later and you can try them on for me.”

“Like the cheesy dressing-room-montages you see in films?”

“ _Exactly_ like that, if you want it to be.”

“Can I help you with anything?” a dark-haired boy asks. He looks to be about Louis and Harry's age, and his brown eyes are tired. His name tag reads ‘ZAIN’. Zain appears not to have slept well last night.

Harry looks as though he’s going to ask him something, but when he sees the exhausted look on Zain’s face, he decides against it. “I think I’m good.”

“Glad to hear it. Tell me if you need anything,” Zain responds in a monotone voice. He yawns.

Louis and Harry sift through the racks of clothing once more. Harry picks out a nice jacket and some jeans.

In the fitting room, Louis sits on the bench in front of one of the stalls as Harry goes in.

“I don't know... I feel like these jeans are a little tight,” he says when he steps out of the room. He turns for Louis, and Louis' eyes widen to the size of records when he sees how cute Harry's ass looks in those pants.

“I mean... um... they don't _look_ too tight,” Louis tells him, regaining his composure. He feels his cheeks getting hot. “Where do, uh... where do they feel tight?”

“They don't _feel_ tight,” he replies. “I just thought they looked it when I looked in the mirror.”

“Nope. No. Those look rad on you.”

He gives Louis a thumbs-up and goes back into the stall.

They decide on a totally choice leather jacket, the pair of jeans Louis had liked (plus another pair), and a couple of patterned sweaters. (Harry sure loves sweaters - Louis thinks they look adorable on him.)

After Harry makes his purchases, they wander through Chicago once more in search of a place to eat. There’s a cold breeze blowing through the city, and a thin layer of clouds stretches across the sky.

In the end, Louis spots a breakfast diner. It's well past breakfast, but he knows he and Harry have a shared love for breakfast food, so he figures brunch might be nice.

“Hey, mate, d'you want to go in there?” Louis says, lightly elbowing Harry to get his attention.

“Yeah, totally!”

They cross the street together and sit down to eat. It's nice and warm in there, which is a stark contrast to the temperature outside on the ice-blanketed pavement. The two of them are seated at a booth.

Harry immediately begins reading off the things he might like to eat.

“They have chocolate chip pancakes, and French toast, and Belgian waffles...”

“You have quite the sweet tooth, don't you?” Louis asks.

He grins. “You know it.”

“I've never seen you as a sugary-sweet kind of person.”

“Well, um... I am. I love chocolate, especially.” He sets his menu down. “Speaking of – I think I'll get the chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Good choice.”

Louis decides on French toast. They order their food, and as they eat, they laugh and talk together.

At the end of their day spent in Chicago – around a quarter to 5:00 – they head back to the parking garage to fetch the car.

—

It’s only just past 5:00, but the sun has pretty much disappeared. The moon hangs over the roads as Louis drives he and Harry back to East Chicago. The radio is playing softly.

“Did you have a fun birthday?” Louis asks.

Harry responds, “Yeah, I did.”

“You’d better call me and tell me what your parents get you.”

“I will. I’m hoping for a new Polaroid camera… or a video camera.”

Harry's a bit sleepy, and the sun has set, so he closes his eyes. The soft rock playing from the car is soothing.

“Do you know this song?” Louis asks him.

Lazily, he shakes his head and opens his eyes a bit.

“It’s ‘Dreams’ by Fleetwood Mac. One of the greatest songs ever written, in my opinion. And the _Rumours_ album is probably one of the most iconic rock records ever made. We should listen to it together sometime.”

Harry smiles.

The rest of the ride home is calm and quiet. Louis talks to Harry as he rests, and Harry lets him. By the time they're nearing home, Harry's ready to fall asleep.

Louis stops his car in Harry's driveway. Harry stares over at him. They’ve done a lot of bonding today, and Harry… well, after a long day of spending time together, he kind of wants to tell Louis he's gay. He feels like it would be cool to have someone know. Then, it wouldn’t feel like such a burden all the time. And Louis is his best friend; he deserves to know.

“Louis, listen, I… uh…” Harry stammers. When he nervously looks down at his trembling hands, he sees that his watch reads 5:58PM. He's supposed to be in his house right now.

“…I have to go inside,” Harry finishes. He reaches over and gives Louis a big hug. “I’ll see you on Monday!”

“Oh, okay!” Louis looks a bit flustered, but he hugs Harry back. “Hope you had fun!”

“I did!” Harry runs through the front door, waving to his best friend.

When he gets inside, dinner is waiting for him.

He and his family eat, and they ask about his day off with Louis. He tells them all about it, and after dinner, they give him his present: a video camera.

“Holy _shit_!” Harry yells. His face is lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Watch your language, young man,” his mum scolds.

“Sorry, I… oh, my God, thank you so, so much!”

He gives them hugs and dashes upstairs with his new video camera. It’s, like, really heavy, so climbing the stairs with it is a bit of work, but he eventually reaches his room. He grabs the phone and dials Louis’ number.

“Louis, you are _never_ going to believe what my parents got me…!”

* * *

February 28th, 1986

It’s fucking _cold_. Louis thought it was going to be warmer today and didn’t bring an extra jumper. He and Harry are waiting in line outside the cinema to see _Pretty In Pink_.

They’ve been there for an hour or so when the line begins moving forward. Harry excitedly moves ahead and buys their tickets.

“Hey, Lou, can you save us seats? I’m gonna buy popcorn.”

“Um. Sure.” Louis is a little thrown off by the nickname; he doesn’t think Harry's ever called him Lou before. He likes how it sounds when Harry says it.

Louis enters Theater 4 and take a seat near the back. It’s cold in there, but not nearly as cold as the weather outside. Red velvet curtains cover the screen.

“Hi,” he hears minutes later. Harry slides into the seat next to him and hands him a bag of popcorn.

“I think I remember you telling me once that you like Coke, so that’s what I got. Sorry if you don’t like it.”

He places a bottle of Coca-Cola in Louis' hand. Louis can’t believe how much he's blushing right now, and he also can’t believe Harry remembered that he prefers Coke.

“Thanks.”

“Also, even if you don’t normally like popcorn, I’d try it. Cinema popcorn is better than regular popcorn.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Most definitely.”

“Okay…” Louis teasingly takes a piece of popcorn from his bag and puts it in his mouth. “Whoa. That _is_ better than usual!”

Harry tries to hide a smug smile. “Told you so.”

It turns out that going to the cinema with Harry is quite an experience. After every preview, he tells Louis whether he’d like to see the advertised film or not. During the film, he makes commentary on the cinematography and the character development and a ton of other film shit Louis can’t understand.

“That was really good!” Harry exclaims as they’re leaving the theater. “I think Hughes should’ve better emphasized the timespan over which the film took place - the fact that we weren’t exactly aware of how much time had passed made the relationship between Blane and Andi seem less realistic. I did enjoy the relationship between Andi and Duckie, though. Duckie was a great character. I’d give the film an 8 out of 10.”

“8 out of 10?”

“Yup.”

“Have you ever given a film a 10?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Damn, Harry! You’re so mean!”

Harry grins. “I have to be honest and critical or no one will take me seriously in the film industry.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Louis pauses. “D’you want to come over to my place and hang?”

“Sure.”

They walk off in the direction of Louis' house.

* * *

March 2nd, 1986

“Louis, will you sing me a song?” Harry asks as he lies on his bed.

“Why?”

“I’m bored. We aren’t doing anything.”

“Can’t we, like… do something, then? What’s with you and the singing, anyway?”

“You have a good voice.”

Louis scoffs.

“C’mon, Lou. Sing me one of your songs.”

“No.”

“I won’t even look at you. I’ll just lie here.”

“No.”

Harry reaches over to where Louis is standing and grabs his wrist. He tugs on his arm.

“ _Please_ ,” Harry says with a smile.

He huffs. “Fine.”

“Yes!”

Louis huffs again, making sure Harry sees the dirty look he’s giving him, and Harry hears him walk over to grab an instrument. He makes out the sound of Louis plugging in his electric guitar and beginning to tune it.

“What are you gonna play me?” Harry asks.

“It’s called ‘Infinity’.”

“Sounds cool.”

“You haven’t even heard it yet.”

“Yeah, but the name is cool. And, you need an electric guitar for it, so it’s gotta be pretty cool.”

Harry looks up and sees Louis roll his eyes, but he’s smiling to himself.

He begins to strum a tune. When he begins singing, his voice is soft and soothing.

“ _Down to earth / Keep on falling when I know it hurts / Moving faster than a million miles an hour / Trying to catch my breath, some way, somehow…_ ”

As Louis sings, Harry gradually sits up and looks at him, feeling like he's in a trance. Louis' voice is captivating, and Harry can’t seem to tear his eyes – or ears – away from him. Louis is _beautiful_ ; everything about him is. His voice, and his laugh, and his personality, and his eyes…

At the bridge of the song, Louis plays a sick solo on the guitar. It really shows off his instrumental skills, and it’s very pretty.

Louis finishes up the song with the last few words, “… _Infinity / Yeah, infinity._ ”

Still enthralled by his voice, Harry manages to breathe out a “Wow.”

“’Wow’?”

“Yeah. Wow.” He pauses and suddenly snaps out of my trance. “That was so fucking good, Louis!”

“You think so?”

“Yes! Will you… will you sing me another one? Just one more, I promise.”

He sighs. “Fine.”

Louis swaps his electric guitar for an acoustic one and sits in front of Harry again.

“Alright, this one’s called ‘One Thing’…”

* * *

April 29th, 1986

“Louis, can you believe we’re learning about Shakespeare in my English class?!” Harry asks as he catches up to him in the hallway.

“You sound excited about this. I can’t help but ask why.”

“Shakespeare is the flange, mate!”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “You like Shakespeare?”

“Yeah! I love the language he uses in his writing, and the stories he’s thought of that have impacted our culture so much… his writing has hugely influenced modern playwriting and screenwriting. I think my favorite one of his plays is _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ , though I do love _Hamlet_.”

“Hm. Well, I’ll make a note of that.”

“For what?”

“I dunno. I feel like I should know the things you like, though. And, uh… I like Shakespeare, too.”

“You do?”

“…Yes. I like _Romeo & Juliet _ best.”

“That one’s good, too. I mean, I think they’re all good, but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah… yeah. They’re all good.”

“D’you have a favorite quote of his?”

“You know, I don’t think I do.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Hey, man, um… we have a long weekend next weekend. We should do something fun instead of just going to each other’s houses. We should… go to a roller rink!”

Harry's face lights up. “A roller rink?”

“Yes! We can go… next Monday. I’ll meet you at the roller rink down the street from the cinema ‘round 3:00.”

“Dope.”

—

Louis may or may not have ever read any of Shakespeare’s works, even when he was required to in English class. He may or may not have pretended to like Shakespeare in order to impress Harry. And, he may or may not have used going to the roller rink as an excuse to kind of go on a date with him, and to distract from his lack of knowledge about the works of William Shakespeare.

But you can’t prove any of that.

* * *

May 5th, 1986

When Harry arrives at the roller rink, he sees Louis at the counter waiting for his skates.

“Hey, Lou,” he says.

“Hey.”

Harry turns towards the guy at the counter. “Size 10, please.”

“Fucking Bigfoot,” Louis mumbles, trying to hide a smirk.

“Oh, yeah? What size are _you_ , huh, Tiny Tommo?”

“Here’re your size 8’s,” the guy behind the counter says, handing the shoes to Louis.

Louis’ face turns a striking shade of pink as he reluctantly takes his skates from atop the counter. Harry tries to hold himself back, but, instead, he begins laughing his head off.

“I’m gonna call you that for the _rest_ of your _life_ , Tiny Tommo.”

“ _Fuck_ no.” His cheeks are still flushed with color. “‘Lou’ or ‘Louis’ will suffice.”

“So, you _do_ like it when I call you Lou. I wasn’t sure if you liked that or not.”

“Yeah, I can dig it.”

Harry nods, and, when he's handed his skates, he and Louis sit down to put theirs on.

“I like this song,” Louis tells him, nodding towards the speaker closest to them.

“I don’t know it,” Harry admits.

“’Human Touch’ by Rick Springfield.”

“Isn’t that the guy who sings ‘Jessie’s Girl’?”

“So, you _do_ pay attention when I talk to you!”

“Of course I do! Are you accusing me of being a bad friend?”

Louis puts on a goofy face and shrugs, looking around jokingly. “I dunno…”

Harry shoves him. “Don’t be cheeky.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “For real, though, I’d never call you a bad friend. I know you listen to me.”

Harry smiles and finishes tying his laces. “Ready?”

Louis doesn’t respond. Instead, he gets up, skates towards the rink in the middle of the building, and beckons for Harry to follow him.

As it turns out, Harry's not a particularly gifted roller skater. Louis glides around him and laughs at him, trying to help him look more like he knows what he's doing and less like a flailing baby deer. (He mostly just laughs at him, though.)

“Haven’t you ever gone roller skating before?” Louis asks.

“Yeah! I’m just, uh, not very graceful, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“It’s ‘cause your limbs are too long for your body. You’re like a tree.”

Harry scoffs. “Thanks.”

“I’m sure you’ll grow into it. Everyone has an awkward growing phase.”

“Oh, yeah? Where’s yours, huh?”

Louis makes a nimble loop around him and replies, “I had mine in fifth grade.”

Harry mutters, “Lucky little shit.”

He continues skating and failing to impress Louis in the slightest. As he's about to fall for what seems like the thousandth time, Louis grabs his wrist. Harry's head snaps up in surprise.

“Let me show you how to do it,” Louis suggests.

Harry nods.

“Just step and glide. And, don’t look at your feet; it won’t help. Look at me, instead.”

Harry looks into his blue eyes and feels his heart begin racing. He forgets that Louis is holding onto his wrist, so it catches him off-guard when Louis asks why his pulse is so fast.

“I think it’s… it’s just all of this exercise, you know. Let me go get my inhaler.”

Louis helps him skate over to where they’ve been keeping their things. Harry takes a puff in from his inhaler, and they go back into the rink.

He feels Louis gently hold his hand. “Okay, like I said: Step, glide, repeat. Focus on me – or what’s in front of you – rather than on your feet. And keep your arms held out. They’ll help you balance.”

 _Step, glide. Step, glide._ Harry still looks super clumsy, but he can tell he's doing a lot better than he was before. Louis lets go of his hand, and he continues skating on his own next to him.

“Look, I’m doing it!” Harry exclaims. He turns around to look at Louis and give him a thumbs-up. Louis smiles and returns the gesture.

“You’re not half bad when you actually know how to do it,” Louis tells him. “Maybe we’ll try ice skating in the winter.”

He laughs and skates back over to Louis, almost bumping into someone on his way over. “I’m not sure how well I’ll do at ice skating. I haven’t quite mastered the art of roller skating yet.”

“I guess we might have to come back and practice, then.”

“Maybe we will.”

Harry steps forward and trips again. This time, he lands right in Louis’ arms. (Harry never thought there’d be a day when he'd literally _fall_ for Louis.) (Ha, ha.)

“Watch out, mate - you don’t want to go falling onto a stranger. That’d be embarrassing as hell.”

Harry regains his balance and continues skating. He and Louis stay for another hour or so, and they each buy a bottle of Coca-Cola before leaving the roller rink.

“That was fun,” Louis states.

“Mhm,” Harry agrees, taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s, um, getting late… d’you want to come over for dinner? You can watch MTV with me and my sisters afterwards.”

“Sure.”

They stroll over to the bike rack and grab their bicycles, then pedal towards Louis’ house.

* * *

May 17th, 1986

Louis is over at Harry’s place this evening. They’re both studying for their final exams, which are in a few weeks, and Harry keeps complaining that Louis is “being distracting”.

“Am not!” Louis protests.

“You _are_! I’m going to make you leave if you keep distracting me.”

“C’mon don’t be like that. I know you’re just pissed because you can’t see _Top Gun_ unless you study a fuck-ton today.”

“You’re right – that _is_ why I’m mad. So, can you please help me out and not be so distracting?” It’s hard for Louis to take him seriously when he’s laughing as he tries to scold him. “I offered to go over Biology terms with you earlier. Why don’t we do that?”

Louis groans. Then, suddenly, an idea pops into his head. “Can we go downstairs and get a snack?”

Harry sighs and puts his textbook and notecards down. “I guess so.”

The two of them trudge downstairs. When they’re close to the front door, Louis sighs, shakes his head, and stretches out his arms. Then, he grabs Harry and throws him over his shoulder. Harry’s not as heavy as Louis thought he’d be, but Louis is still barely managing to keep him up.

“ _LOUIS_! What the _fuck_ are you–?”

“We’re going to see the bloody film!”

Louis runs out the front door and sets Harry into the passenger seat. His arms are aching badly as he runs around to the driver’s side, and Louis can tell he's definitely going to regret carrying Harry tomorrow.

“Louis, let me out!” Harry waits until Louis makes eye contact with him, then says, “I’m serious. I really want to study.”

Louis sighs. “I’m sorry. If… if you _really_ want to go back inside, I’ll let you. But, you’ve been studying the _entire_ day, and finals aren’t for another two weeks. You deserve a break.”

They stare at each other for a few more seconds. Louis get uncomfortable and redirects his gaze towards his lap, where he's twiddling his thumbs.

After what feels like hours of silence, he thinks he hears Harry mumble, “…Take me to the theater.”

Louis looks up. “What?”

Harry sighs audibly. A little smile creeps across his face. “Take me to the cinema before I change my mind.”

Louis' entire face breaks out into a pleased grin. “Yes! Don’t look so glum – you’re the one who wanted to see the film!”

Harry’s previously annoyed expression switches to a contented one. “That’s true.”

Louis starts the car up and pulls out of Harry’s driveway. “It’ll be rad. I mean, _Tom Cruise_ is in it.”

When they arrive at the cinema, Louis buys tickets while Harry goes to buy them popcorn and drinks. They meet up at their seats near the center of the theater.

As per usual, Harry gives Louis his opinion on each of the trailers. There’s one film coming out next month, _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_ , that leaves Harry freaking.

“That looks _amazing_ ,” he comments. “Doesn’t it?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, it definitely looks legit.”

“I mean, of _course_ it’s going to be good ‘cause it’s a John Hughes film, but I have _really_ high hopes for this one in particular.”

They keep watching the previews. If Louis looks closely, he can almost see the gears turning in Harry’s head just by reading his facial expressions. Louis can tell he’s thinking really hard about each preview.

Eventually, the film begins. Louis isn't extremely interested in this film in particular – everyone knows Louis goes to the cinema with Harry just to watch him watch the movie. He's trying to pay attention, though, so he can talk about it with Harry afterwards. He just— oh, my _God_.

Y’know, when Louis entered the theater with Harry, he was unaware that this film had so many attractive, shirtless guys in it. He doesn’t think Harry knew, either, and that’s definitely not why he wanted to see it, but it certainly keeps Louis engaged in the film.

At the end, he and Harry walk out to the car and sit down. Harry’s talking about what he thought of the film and finishing up the last of his soda.

“… I swear – if you invented a drinking game where you took a shot every time they played ‘Danger Zone’ or ‘Take My Breath Away’ and took a shot every time you saw a pair of aviator sunglasses, you’d be dead by the end of the film. But it was cheesy in a good way, though – you get what I mean, right?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, I agree. So, what’s the final judgement?”

“Six.”

He whistles. “Looks like the film industry needs to step up its game if they want to impress you, huh?”

Harry shrugs. “I’ve told you before, I prefer honesty over sugar-coating everything.”

Nodding, Louis starts up the car. “Alright. Well, I hope you had fun.”

“Yeah, uh… thank you. For making me come here. It was a lot better than sitting in my room studying all night.”

He leans over and hugs Louis tightly. Louis squeezes back, taking in the scent of Harry's hair gel and the faint smell of his cologne, which smells like vanilla.

“You have to take me home now, though,” Harry says.

“If you insist,” Louis replies, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

“Shut up, I let you take me to the fucking _cinema_! Let me study!”

Against his will, Louis drops Harry off at his house.

* * *

June 3rd, 1986

Summer holiday has finally arrived. Harry and Louis have actually spent most of the last few days apart, since they’ve been sleeping in until the early afternoon. Louis' parents are taking his sisters to the lake today, he and Harry have got plans to spend the day together at Louis' house.

Harry drives himself over to Louis' place with his video camera in the passenger seat.

When Harry knocks on the door, Louis answers it wearing a cropped t-shirt and acid wash shorts. (Harry can see _so much_ of him right now. Holy shit.) He can hear MTV playing from inside the house.

“Hey,” Harry says.

“Hey.”

“I can see your bellybutton.”

“Shut up,” Louis says. A wide grin spreads across his face.

Harry walks into the house with his video camera under his arm.

“What’s with the camera?” Louis asks, walking into the kitchen. “D’you want a drink?”

“Lemonade, please. And, er…” Harry sits down on the couch. There’s a music video by someone he doesn’t know playing on the telly.

Louis sits next to him and hands him his drink. “Lay it on me, mate.”

“Well, I thought that since you love music videos and I haven’t gotten to use the video camera I got for my birthday yet, we could make a music video. If you want to.”

Louis holds a finger up, signaling that he should wait a moment. Louis gets up and runs into another room. He returns with a box full of tapes.

With a mischievous look, he asks, “Which video do you want to make first?”

—

“You’re sure you want to do this one?” Harry questions. “It’s going to be hard to film if we’re both in it.”

“Yes! C’mon, it’ll be super fun.”

“Okay…”

Harry stares at the blank screen that had previously been showing him the “Dancing In the Street” video by Mick Jagger and David Bowie. Louis wants him to be Mick Jagger. Harry begins listing how they’re going to shoot everything.

The two of them step outside into the sunlight. Harry lies on the ground with his video camera and focuses on Louis’ feet.

“How come I have to be the feet?” Louis asks. “The shoes in the video are Jagger’s.”

“Because I can’t dance.”

“Fair enough.”

They begin filming. The filming location moves all around Louis’ house, from the front yard to the backyard to the bathroom to the living room. They pop in and out of rooms and position the camera on every piece of furniture they can find, often moving things from place to place. By the end, they’ve only got one bit left to film: the part where David Bowie jumps off the staircase.

“You really don’t have to do this!” Harry calls up to the top of the stairs.

“Just film it! We have the mattress there!” Louis insists.

“Yeah, but what if you miss the mattress? You could break every bone in your body, and – oh, God, both our mums would _kill_ me! _Please_ reconsider.”

Louis shakes his head. “I’m jumping off the staircase whether you want me to or not, so you’d better get that camera rolling.”

Harry sighs. “Please try and land on your stomach or your back. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ll be fine! You sound like my mum.”

Against Harry's better judgement, he gets the camera rolling. He gives Louis a thumbs-up. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Louis swallows and stretches out. Then, he steps up onto the stairway railing. He’s really high up off the ground, and he’s practically tightrope-walking. Harry sees a bead of sweat roll down his temple. His chest rises and falls in a big breath.

Louis plasters a happy smile onto his face and jumps off the stairway railing towards the ground. From where he's standing, Harry can’t see the mattress, but he hears a soft _thud_. Immediately after he gets the shot, he runs over to where Louis has hopefully made a safe landing.

Harry is not met with a happy sight. His friend has landed safely on the mattress, but he’s clutching his ankle and wincing. Harry can’t see his face because he’s curled up in a ball.

“Louis!” Harry puts his camera down and kneels next to Louis. “Oh, my fucking God, I _told_ you this would happen! I can’t believe the nerve of you – is it broken? Sprained? Fucking hell, do I need to call an ambulance? I…”

His voice fades as he listens closely to Louis’ sobs.

“…Lou?”

Louis turns over, and Harry is shocked to discover that Louis' supposed “crying” is actually a fit of laughter. His face is as red as a tomato, and Harry doesn’t think Louis can breathe ‘cause he’s laughing too hard.

“I got you! I got you so! Fucking! Good!” Louis manages to say.

Harry shoves him. “That was _not_ funny, Louis!”

“It fucking was! My favorite…” He pauses to continue laughing, which Harry will admit is easing his mind slightly. Louis' laugh is adorable. “My favorite part was when you… when you said ‘I can’t believe the nerve of you!’. You’re such a mum.”

“Am not!”

“You totally, entirely, most _definitely_ are.”

“Fuck you!” Harry shoves him again.

“Don’t be so… uptight…”

“You’re making me worried again - take deep breaths. Stop laughing so hard.”

Louis stares up at Harry fondly and begins inhaling and exhaling slowly. When Harry thinks he’s calmed down, he asks Louis if he wants to help him edit their music video.

Louis nods. “Yeah. You can use the computer in the den. I’m gonna get us more drinks.”

He sits up and pats Harry's shoulder as he stands. Harry huffs.

“You know you love me!” Louis says as he walks away.

“You’re a headache!” Harry calls after him.

From the kitchen, he hears, “I know – but you love me for it!”

“Doubtful!”

Harry grabs his camera and walks into the den.

The two of them spend the rest of the afternoon editing the video, though there’s not much they can do besides cut the clips and put them together. (Harry wishes computers had a better way to edit videos.) Around 4:00, they put the tape in and sit in front of the TV with some popcorn.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Harry presses play.

Of course, their video is exactly what you’d expect from two teenage guys with a shitty video camera – the lighting is awful, they’re not very good at mouthing the words, and half the time the camera shakes when it’s not supposed to. But it’s a start, and it was really fun.

“I say job well done!” Louis proclaims when they’ve watched the whole thing. “I’ll put the tape somewhere no one’ll record over it.”

He turns to look Harry in the eyes. His eyes are a lovely shade of blue. Harry wonders what it’d be like if they could just stay there for a little while – Harry could spend a long time looking into his eyes.

Just then, the front door opens. Louis’ mum, stepdad, and sisters all walk through the door.

“Louis! What did you do to the house?!” his mum scolds.

He looks at Harry, and his facial expression reads “yikes”.

“Sorry, Mum. We were shooting a music video.”

“That’s nice, but you’d better clean all of this up before the end of the day, understand?”

“Yeah.” He gets up and turns to Harry. “I’ll walk you out, ‘kay?”

“Are you sure?”

“Totally. I’ll clean up our mess.”

He helps Harry up and walks him to the door.

“So, uh… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Harry suggests.

He nods. “Sounds cool.”

They hug, and Harry waves at him before walking to his car.

* * *

June 11th, 1986

Today is a day that Louis knows Harry’s been anticipating for months: the day he finally gets to see the famed new John Hughes film, _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_. For days on end he’s been reminding Louis that they’re going to the movies today, and he even called Louis earlier this morning to remind him  _again_. They made a decision: they’ll drive to the mall in Chicago and see the film in the theater there.

Harry pulls up to Louis' house around noon. Louis hops into the passenger’s side.

“S’up?” he asks.

“Not much. I’ve mostly just been waiting to go to the cinema with you all day.” Harry pulls out of Louis' driveway and begins the trip to Chicago.

“You could’ve come earlier.”

“Nah, I wanted to let you sleep.”

“Oh… that’s really sweet, Harry.”

Louis suddenly notices how quiet it is in the car. “For fuck’s sake, Harry, don’t you get bored sitting in the car without the radio on?”

“I wanted to let you pick the station!” he defends. “You know all the good radio stations better than I do.”

“Can’t argue with that logic.”

Louis turns on the radio. “Invisible Touch” by Genesis is playing.

“Y’know, people give Phil Collins a load of crap, but he’s not bad,” he says. “Genius drummer. And his voice isn’t half bad - I like this song a lot.”

Harry starts chuckling to himself.

“What are you laughing at, huh?” Louis teases.

“You just… you comment on _every_ song. It’s funny.”

“I could say plenty of things about _you_ during _films_ ,” he retorts. “You comment on everything! The trailers, the film itself, the bloody—I dunno, _character development_ —”

“Okay, okay, point taken!”

Harry smiles to himself and focuses on the road.

“You know I don’t actually mind it, right?” Louis reassures him. “The commentary?”

“I know.”

“Good.”

The radio switches to The Buggles’ “Video Killed the Radio Star”.

“You know, _this_ song—” Louis interrupts his own sentence when he begins to laugh. “I’m totally kidding.”

The drive to Chicago never seems long when he and Harry are bantering and listening to the radio. Before they know it, they’ve arrived at the mall.

This one’s a different mall than the one they went to on Harry’s birthday. It’s got a giant food court, two stories, and a huge cinema up on the second floor. From the moment they walk in, the smell of warm pretzels and perfume fills their noses.

“We should go upstairs and see what times the film’s showing at,” Harry suggests. “Then we can pick a time and hang out until then.”

“Good idea.”

They decide on a showing that begins in about an hour and a half, at 3:30. As they walk back out into the rest of the mall, Louis' stomach grumbles loudly.

“Did you not eat anything?” Harry asks.

He shakes his head. “I had breakfast earlier, but I haven’t had lunch.”

“We should probably stop at the food court first, then.”

“I second that notion.”

The mall is bustling with people – many of them teenagers – on this hot, humid Friday. Fortunately, it’s air-conditioned in here, or Louis doubts there’d be quite as many people. He buys a hamburger and shares his fries with Harry as they talk. When he finishes eating, they walk around the mall together.

“Holy shit,” Louis says, looking into a furniture store. It’s glittering and glimmering with expensive furniture, decorative pieces, chandeliers, silverware – you name it. “I could never afford anything here in, like, a million years.”

Harry follows him inside.

“Look at this!” Louis says. There’s a fancy circular loveseat with a little table in front of it. He sits on the chair and mocks drinking tea from chinaware. In a high-pitched posh accent, he says, “If I were rich, I’d sit here with my posh friends and have a jolly good laugh over afternoon tea!”

Harry snickers.

They fool around in there some more, then make their way towards the side of the mall where the movie theater is.

Louis hears Harry say, “Louis, look!”

He turns around, and his heart melts. They’ve stopped in front of a pet store with a bunch of little puppies playing at the front.

“I’ve always wanted a puppy,” Louis admits.

“Me, too. My mum’s allergic, so I’ve never been able to have a pet.”

“That sucks. We just can’t afford to take care of one. Y’know, with all the babies already running ‘round the house.”

They walk into the shop to play with the puppies. Harry sits down with one and begins petting it as it squirms in his arms. He’s completely enamored with the little dog. It sneezes, and Louis is afraid Harry might faint.

“Be careful; don’t go falling in love with random dogs,” Louis warns. “You’ll end up taking one home.”

Harry rolls his eyes at him.

As it nears 3:30, they head back to the cinema.

“Two for _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_ , please,” Harry tells the girl standing at the counter.

“That’ll be $8.”

“I’ll pay,” Louis says, slapping a ten onto the counter before Harry can protest.

As they walk into the lobby, Harry scolds, “You didn’t have to pay.”

“It’s your big movie! The one you’ve been anxiously awaiting for months! So, yes, I _do_ have to pay. For snacks, too.”

Stubbornness is a trait Louis possess in excess, and Harry knows he’s never going to get through to him, so he doesn’t argue.

“Fine. But, I’m paying for… I dunno, the next record you want to buy, or something.”

“Deal.”

Harry goes into the theater to get them seats, and Louis buys popcorn and drinks. As usual, Louis has a lot of trouble carrying everything, with a bag of popcorn under each arm, a drink in each hand, and the straws held between his teeth.

He manages to make it up the stairs to where Harry’s seated.

“You always look so funny when you buy the popcorn,” Harry teases.

“Not my fault my hands are small.”

“I bet I could carry both those soda bottles in one hand.”

Louis gestures to the bottles and crosses his arms. “Try me.”

Harry picks up both bottles at the point right below the neck. It looks like he isn’t even straining his hands.

Louis huffs. “Your hands are enormous.”

“Well, you know what they say about big hands…”

Louis gasps, then begins laughing. “You’re such a little shit!”

Harry shrugs. There’s a goofy smile on his face.

The previews start, and Harry does his usual commentary.

When the film begins, Louis is shocked: Harry barely says a word the entire film. He keeps his eyes entirely locked on the screen, mindlessly eating popcorn as he watches.

Personally, Louis is blown away by the movie, too. It’s got a great soundtrack, and all of the characters are likable and well-developed. (Damn it, he's starting to sound like Harry.)

At the end, Harry stares blankly at the screen while the credits roll.

“So, um… how did you like it?” Louis asks him softly.

“That was singlehandedly the greatest film I’ve ever had the privilege of seeing!”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Really? So—”

“It was totally a ten!”

Louis whistles. “I can’t believe you’re never going to see a film greater than _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_ for the rest of your life.”

“Pretty much.” He smiles. “Alright. We should probably head home.”

“I can drive, if you want to talk about the movie.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

They walk towards the parking garage.

“So… what was your favorite part?” Louis asks.

“To be fully honest, I _loved_ the characters. They all had such individual personalities that stayed consistent throughout the film, and you could definitely see the character development happening. When Cameron pushed the car off the top of the garage? That was amazing! Talk about a dynamic character! Hughes has honestly outdone himself with this one.”

They reach the car, and Harry continues to discuss the movie. They don’t even turn the radio on; their cheerful conversation fills the silence. Louis rolls down the windows, and the cool air of the summer evening rushes past. The sun is low in the sky.

Their chatter finally dies down, and Louis turns on the radio.

* * *

July 26th, 1986

Louis and Harry have just finished lunch and are hanging at Harry's house for the afternoon. They’re not doing much, and Louis is looking through all the stuff in Harry's room. It’s mostly costumes that don’t fit anymore and discarded action figures.

“Oh, my God, are these what I think they are?” Louis asks, taking two long, plastic cylinders out of the closet.

“Why are you even looking through my things?” Harry whines. “And, um… yes, those are probably what you think they are.”

Louis presses a button on one of them, and it glows green and makes a humming noise.

“I can’t believe you have toy lightsabers.”

He shrugs. “It’s not really _that_ surprising, is it?”

“I guess not.”

Louis continues to look through Harry's old things. “Y’know, if you ever want to make a home video or something, you’ve got quite the collection of props and costumes. We could even use them for more music videos.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Louis hears Harry gasp softly. When he turns around, Harry’s now sitting up on the bed and staring at him, mouth agape.

“What?” Louis asks.

“We should make music videos for _your_ songs!”

“I, er… I can’t even think of an argument. That’s a pretty good idea.”

“I know!” He gets up and grabs his video camera, then begins searching frantically for an empty tape to put into it. “Pick a song, Lou. I can draw up a storyboard for us, and we can film our own original stuff – it’ll be great!”

Louis sighs. “Um… I guess ‘Stand Up’ could be fun to make a video for.”

“Yes! Oh, my God, I have an idea already.”

He grabs a notebook and a pencil and beckons for Louis to sit next to him on the edge of his bed. Louis does as he wants.

“Okay. We could start with a shot of you pretending to punch out the window of a car, with a glass breaking sound effect and stuff. You look in the car, but you appear not to find what you were looking for.”

He draws out these two scenes on the paper. The drawings look just like Louis.

“Then, you get arrested. You’re tied to a chair in a room, and after you struggle for a bit, the camera focuses in on your face. You look up at it, and that’s when you start mouthing the words.”

Louis is amazed at Harry’s imagination and the ease with which he creates new ideas.

Harry continues to explain how the plot of the video will involve Louis escaping, shooting up the place, and finding pieces of a puzzle. At the end, Louis puts the pieces together and viewers discover that the pieces make a heart. Louis drives away at the end, having quite literally _stolen the heart_ , just like in the lyrics of his song.

It takes them about an hour (or, it takes _Harry_ about an hour) to finish drawing a storyboard of the whole thing.

At the end, he says, “You’re going to have to make a recording of the song, so you can lip-sync the words. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” Louis flips through Harry’s notebook, which is now filled with elaborate sketches of Louis and his adventures. “This is really amazing, Harry.”

“What’s amazing?”

“All of this. The drawings, the plot – but mostly, like, the fact that you came up with all of this yourself! In such a short amount of time!”

He shrugs. Louis can’t tell if he’s acting nonchalant, or if he genuinely doesn’t think his work is amazing.

“Y’know… one time, you complimented me on being able to write songs. You said you wished you could create your own movies, or your own content.” Louis closes the book and holds it up, jabbing his finger at it. “ _This_ , my friend, is original content! And it’s totally awesome!”

Harry blushes. “Thanks.”

Louis hands him the book, and he looks through it. “I have black clothes you can wear, and probably an old police costume somewhere.”

“Wait – if you’re filming, who’s gonna be the police officer?”

“Uh… we’ll have to work that out later. Let’s make a recording of the song first.”

And, so begins the creation of Louis and Harry's first original music video.

* * *

August 11th, 1986

It took them about a week to finish recording the song, filming the video, and editing it all together, but Harry thinks it turned out pretty well. It’s definitely a start – there’s only so much that two teenage guys can do on their own.

After what feels like a lifetime, he and Louis' first summer together has come to a close – they head back to school today, this time as upperclassmen.

Harry and Louis have History and English together during second and third hour. They manage to snag seats near one another in both classes. But, by the time Harry's chemistry class rolls around, it seems like this year isn’t really going to be much different from last year.

That is, until someone notices that Harry looks a bit lost when he walks into chemistry.

“Hey, do you want to sit here?” a boy asks.

Harry looks down and sees a friendly-looking guy with inviting brown eyes and brown hair styled like Emilio Estevez’s in _The Breakfast Club_.

“Huh?” Harry asks.

“I mean, you don’t _have_ to, but it looked like you were looking for a place to sit.”

He nods and sets his backpack down. Slowly, Harry takes a seat in the chair next to the boy. He’s kinda cute. He’s definitely a jock, as his varsity jacket reveals, but he doesn’t appear to be _anything_ like Chad’s kind of jock – he looks a lot more like the kind of guy girls want to take home to meet their parents.

“I’m Liam,” he introduces, sticking out a hand.

Harry grabs Liam's hand and shakes it. “Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry.”

Harry smiles. After an awkward pause, he says, “So, uh… what sport do you play?” He gestures at Liam's jacket.

“Soccer.”

“Cool. I used to play a bit, er, back in England. I’m not very good.” Harry looks at the blue-and-tan jacket again. It has the ECHS logo on the breast. “I guess you must be pretty good, though, since you’re on the varsity team.”

Liam shakes his head. “Junior varsity, actually. But we all get jackets.”

“Hm… you’re a junior, too, then?”

Liam nods.

“Rad.”

The teacher clears his throat. “Good afternoon, everyone. I’m Mr. Howard, and whoever you’re sitting next to right now is going to be your lab partner for the rest of the school year, so get comfortable with one another.”

Liam raises his eyebrows at me. “I guess we’re lab partners.”

“I guess we are.”

Class ensues. At the end, Harry asks Liam if he wants to sit with he and Louis at lunch, though Harry highly suspects Liam has other people, like his teammates, to sit with.

“Sure, I’d love to,” he responds.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, I invited you ‘cause you seem nice, but I figured you’d sit with your teammates.”

He shrugs. “I, um… I don’t have to sit with them. I want to meet your friend.”

Harry can tell by the way Liam's voice wavers that there’s more to the story, but he doesn’t pry out of fear of scaring him off. Harry can’t go around getting rid of friends an hour after he's met them.

He leads Liam over to the table that he and Louis sat at for all of last year. Louis is already there.

“Hey, Lou, this is Liam,” Harry says.

Louis shakes Liam’s hand. “Louis. Pleasure.”

Liam nods and smiles at him.

Harry wants to go over to the other side of the table and sit next to Louis, but he doesn’t want Liam to feel like the odd one out, so he takes a seat next to him.

“You draw anything today?” Louis asks Harry, looking over at his backpack.

“Nah. I mostly napped in class – I went to bed pretty late last night.”

Louis laughs. When he sees the potato chips Harry's taken out of his lunch box, he reaches over and takes one.

“I don’t mean to sound weird, but… are you guys related?” Liam asks.

Both Harry and Louis begin laughing. Liam appears confused.

“No, we’re not related,” Louis says with a hearty chuckle. “Though, seeing as it’s quite unusual for two English boys to show up in some shitty Indiana town, I don’t blame you for thinking so.”

“Oh. How did you guys meet?”

“I moved here about a year ago,” Harry explains. “Louis and I met at the record store he works at, and we found out that we had a few classes together.”

“Now, we’re inseparable,” Louis finishes.

“You’ve got that right. My mum was practically _begging_ me to make some new friends.”

“Same here.”

“Well, you can tell your mum you met me,” Liam suggests.

“I’m _definitely_ telling her about you – you’re, like, the epitome of ‘good boys my mum wants me to hang out with’. She’ll probably like you more than she likes Louis.”

Louis scoffs. “Your mum loves me.”

“Very true.”

“Oh, hey, Harry, I wanted to ask you if you’d like to go to an a-Ha concert with me next month.”

“Yeah, of course! When is it?”

“The 28th.”

“Awesome! I’m excited.”

When lunch ends, the bell rings to let them know they’ve got to go to class.

“Nice meeting you, Liam – I’ll see you ‘round,” Louis says, getting up and heading to his next class. Harry gathers up his things and bids his new friend farewell.

* * *

August 18th, 1986

The first week of school goes by surprisingly fast. Louis and Harry have been hanging out with Liam now at lunchtime every day, and he seems like a nice guy. Every day of school has been fairly the same so far for Louis, though – up until today.

He's in Spanish class first hour when he feels a tap on his shoulder. A voice behind him says, “Psst. Hey, Mr. England.”

Louis turns around and stares at the boy who sits behind him. He's seen him before – the boy is pale and has short brown hair, and he kinda always looks like he’s high. Louis is not sure if he’s _actually_ high all the time or not, though he  _does_  know that this kid has a lot of money, based on the way he dresses.

“You seem like a cool dude. Do you wanna come to a party this Friday night?”

“Me? Really?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, man!”

“I don’t even know you.”

He grabs Louis' hand and shakes it. “Niall Horan.”

“Uh. I’m, uh, Louis – Tomlinson.”

“So… shit, what was I saying?”

“You asked if I wanted to come to a party.”

“Oh, yeah. So, do you wanna come?”

“I, er… I suppose so. Can I bring my friends?”

“Totally, man! Bring all your friends!”

“Cool. I’ll, um… ask my mum.”

“Gnarly.”

“Where is it?”

“My place.”

Niall goes back to doodling on his paper, as though he thinks Louis knows where Niall's place is.

“And where is your place, exactly?”

“Oh. Here.” Niall scribbles an address onto his paper and hands it to Louis.

“Don’t you need that paper? That’s your homework, isn’t it?”

“Fuck, you’re right.”

Louis watches curiously as Niall erases the address from his homework, takes a new piece of paper out, and once again writes his address. He gives Louis the new paper.

“Thanks. What t—”

“ _¡Señores! Por favor, no hablan inglés en mi clase_ ,” Señora Dawson scolds as she walks by their row to check their homework.

Louis sighs and tries asking again. “ _¿A qué hora es tu fiesta?_ ”

Niall grins. “ _A las siete y media._ See you there!”

—

At lunch, Louis finds his friends in their usual place.

“Okay, what did you say you wanted to tell us?” Harry asks.

“I got us invited to a party,” Louis replies.

“By who?”

“Some guy in my Spanish class who’s, like, always high. Niall, I think it was?”

“Niall Horan!” Liam exclaims. “He’s a _legend_. Last year, he was only a sophomore, but he was notorious for throwing better parties than some of the seniors. He’s filthy rich – owns a huge house on the lake and everything. That’s where the parties are.”

“When is it?” Harry asks Louis.

“Friday night at – shit, what’s ‘ _media’_ in Spanish again? He said ‘ _a las siete y media’_.”

“7:30.”

"Gotcha."

“So, what did he say?” Liam pries.

“I swear to God, he was _so_ fucking stoned – he just asked if I wanted to come to a party, I asked if I could bring some friends, and he told me to bring ‘all my friends’.”

“Nice!”

“I guess so.”

“Can I, um…?” Liam mumbles. “Can I get a ride from someone? My parents both work kinda late.”

Louis slides him the paper with Niall’s address on it. “Just give me your address.”

“Thank you.”

Louis takes the paper back when Liam’s done writing and begins eating his lunch.

* * *

August 22nd, 1986

Harry hates starting a day with a bad attitude, but today outright _sucks_.

He woke up around 3AM today and couldn’t fall back asleep. He had time to make breakfast and have some tea (Louis insists that tea is the cure for _everything_ , even excessive sleepiness), but he's really, really tired now.

To make things even worse, Harry's missing school – meaning he doesn’t get to see Louis today – to take his sister to the airport to say goodbye before she flies across the ocean to go to uni back in England.

Some days are impossible to walk into with a good outlook.

After ages of driving to the airport in Chicago, he and his family arrive at their destination.

The last time Harry was at this airport, he had everything he owned packed up and he was moving to East Chicago. That wasn’t a fun day, either. He'd been on a plane for nine hours and left almost everyone he knew behind, so he was tired and grumpy. The airport had been the last place he'd wanted to be.

Today isn’t much different, now that he thinks about it.

They take Gemma through as she checks in her bags, and after waiting several more minutes, a loudspeaker announces that her flight is leaving.

Harry wraps his arms around his big sister and holds on tightly. She hugs back.

“Don’t you dare cry. You’re going to make _me_ cry, too,” Gemma warns.

“Too late,” Harry sniffles as he feels a tear run down his cheek. “You have to write to me _all_ the time. And I know it’s super expensive to place calls across the ocean, but don’t forget to try and call every once in a while. London is pretty far away.”

“I promise, I’ll talk when I can.”

Gemma says her goodbyes their mum and stepdad. When she’s done, Harry runs over and hugs her again.

“Harry, I’ve got to go! My flight’s gonna leave without me.”

“I’m going to miss you so much,” he tells her.

“I’m going to miss you, too. I have to go, though.” She kisses his cheek. His family waves goodbye as she disappears through the door and onto the airplane.

—

Harry's been sulking in his room and drawing in his notebook all afternoon when he hears the phone ring.

“Hello?” he asks.

“ _Hey, Harry, it’s Louis. I was just wondering if you needed a ride to Niall’s party tonight. I know you’re never really sure when you can use the car_ ,” Louis’ voice answers.

Oh, man, Harry had  _completely_ forgotten about the party. “I don’t really know if I want to go. I’m not feeling too great.”

“ _Are you sure? I think it’ll be fun. Maybe you’ll feel better once you get there._ ”

“I…” Louis could have a point. A party might help to lift his spirits. “Okay. But, um, yeah, a ride would be nice.”

“ _Cool. I’ll see you in a bit_.”

As promised, Louis arrives soon after their phone call ends, and he tells Harry they’ve got to pick up Liam before they can head to the party.

“I can’t believe you’re a cab driver now,” Harry tells him as he slides into the passenger’s side. “Going around and picking up all your friends.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. You feeling any better?”

“Er… kind of? My sister left for uni today.”

“Oh, man, I’m sorry. That’s such a drag. And it happened on a day you weren’t feeling well.”

“Lou, I wasn’t feeling well _because_ she left for uni today.”

“Oh.” Louis smiles sheepishly, and a pink hue covers his cheeks. It’s really cute. “I should’ve guessed that.”

Harry laughs at him.

Eventually, they arrive at Liam’s house. He’s waiting for them by his front door.

Liam gets into the backseat, and Harry looks over and sees that Louis has lit a cigarette.

“Hey, give me that!” Harry says, snatching the cigarette out of Louis' mouth. “Don’t do that while you’re driving.”

“Why not?”

“It’s distracting. And you forgot to open the windows – are you _trying_ to kill me?”

Louis shrugs and opens the windows. “Maybe I am.”

“Mhm.” Harry puts the cigarette between his lips and takes a drag.

“Oh, _I_ see. _You_ get to smoke, but I don’t.”

“I’m not the one driving.”

“You are, however, asthmatic.”

“A minor detail.” Harry looks into the backseat. “You want one, Liam?”

“Sure.”

Harry takes a pack of cigarettes from the glove box and hands one to Liam, along with Louis’ lighter.

Eventually, they arrive at what _must_ be Niall’s lake house. It’s fucking enormous – Harry's pretty sure it has three stories. There’s such a huge crowd around the house, and he can see people through every window. Loud rock ‘n roll music is blasting out of the house.

Nervously, Louis walks up to the front door. Liam and Harry stand behind him on either side. Louis knocks.

A boy with blue, slightly bloodshot eyes and brown hair opens up.

“Hey, Niall. I brought some friends,” Louis says, gesturing to Liam and Harry.

“Awesome, man! C’mon in, we’re having a lot of fun already – anyone want a beer?”

Harry's eyes widen.

“No, thanks,” he says. Louis and Liam nod in agreement.

“Cool – more for me, I guess! Make yourselves comfortable!”

The three of them, led by Louis, enter the house.

People are making out on the stairs, talking and drinking in the kitchen and living room, and smoking God-knows-what. Teenagers stand around the pool, making conversation and pushing each other into the water. The rock music blares continuously. It’s just like parties in films, which surprises Harry, because normally _nothing_ in life turns out the way it does in films.

He and his friends mostly talk and eat. Liam and Harry are introduced to Niall, and Liam eventually finds another one of his friends to talk to, so he invites Louis and Harry over.

Harry slowly becomes nauseous from all of the different smells in the house – the smoke and vapor from all the drugs and cigarettes is worsening his asthma.

After about an hour of trying to stay by Louis’ side and make small talk with strangers, Harry can’t stand it anymore. He slips away and makes it onto the roof of the house.

It’s nice and cool out there, and the breeze coming off the lake is nice. The fresh air is helping him breathe more easily, and he takes a few puffs from his inhaler to ease the wheezing sound that’s begun to accompany his breathing. However, being out there alone is allowing his thoughts to collect. He thinks about Louis, who’s downstairs, fitting in with everyone he meets. Meanwhile, Harry's sitting alone on the roof.

Suddenly, he gets really upset.

Why would Louis ever like someone like him? Why does Louis even hang out with him? He doesn’t fit in at parties. He loses fights. He can’t even smoke without being extra careful or coughing up a lung. If only Gemma were here – he could ask her.

Then, Harry realizes that he  _couldn’t_ ask her. She can’t know he's gay.

A tear runs down his cheek. (Another unlikable trait of Harry's: he's such a crybaby.) Right now, he feels very alone in the universe.

“Harry?”

He turns around, processing too late that he probably looks like a mess.

“I thought I might find you up here,” Louis says with a soft smile. Then, he frowns. “Have you been crying?”

Harry begins to shake his head, but he stops when a new thought pops into his head. _With the absence of my sister, maybe I should start confiding in Louis more… He_ is _my best friend._

He nods.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Louis asks.

Using all the courage he can muster, Harry nods again.

“Alright, talk away.”

“Okay, so, er… it started when my sister left—”

Harry pauses. Louis has taken out a pack of cigarettes and is about to light one.

“Hey, Lou, would you mind not smoking right now?”

He raises his eyebrows.

“I just—I came out here to get away from the smoke and stuff inside; my asthma was getting pretty bad in there.”

“Oh, my bad.” He stows the little box away in his jacket pocket. “Okay, continue. It started when your sister left.”

“Yeah. And then we came to this party, and I was having trouble fitting in with everyone, and then I started having trouble breathing, and I just felt like, uh… like you might be mad at me for not really wanting to be here. And for being such a fucking crybaby,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Harry…” Louis puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, man. And… literally, fuck everyone else, okay? If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be. And I don’t care if you fit in or not; high school’s a load of bullshit, anyway. The only thing that matters to me is that _you’re_ doing fine, that _I’m_ doing fine, and that _we_ – as a unit – are doing fine. Okay?” He uses his hands a lot when he talks, pointing back and forth between them.

Harry smiles. “Okay.”

“D’you want a hug?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice, actually.”

They lean towards each other. Louis wraps his arms around Harry's waist, and in return, Harry wraps his arms around Louis' neck. Louis is warm and soft, and he makes Harry feel safe.

When they pull apart, Louis asks if Harry's feeling better. Harry tells him that he is. They stare out across the lake, sitting in silence. The moon has risen over the water, casting a glow over everything. It’s breathtaking.

“Louis,” Harry blurts out, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Well, you see, it’s very personal – you can’t go around telling anyone – and, I dunno, I’m not sure how you’ll feel about me once I tell you.”

“Just tell me.”

“Okay, uh—” Harry looks up and sees a bright light streak across the sky. “Louis, I just saw a shooting star!”

“Did you really?” He looks towards the sky. “You’ve got to make a wish, now.”

Harry's not sure what he wishes for. Maybe the courage to tell Louis what he's been putting off telling him for months. Maybe he wishes that Louis will accept him for who he is, gay or not. Maybe he just wishes that he wasn’t in this situation at all.

He guesses he’ll never know.

“Okay, I made my wish. Anyway, what I’ve been trying to say is that—”

Harry chokes on his words. Slowly, he inhales, then exhales. _I can do this_.

“I’m trying to say that I’m g—”

“Louis! Harry! I’ve been looking all over for you guys,” Liam interrupts. It seems like his wish came true: Liam’s been sent by the universe to save Harry from having to be in this situation with Louis. “The neighbours were complaining about the noise, so they’ve gotta shut the party down. We have to go.”

Louis stands up, and he helps Harry up.

“What were you gonna say?” Louis asks.

“Oh, I’ll tell you later.” Harry doesn’t feel comfortable telling him with other people around.

“Okay.”

They leave the party, and Louis drives Harry and Liam home.

* * *

September 28th, 1986

Louis knocks on Harry’s door. He really doesn’t want to be late to this concert, so he hopes Harry's ready.

Harry's mum opens the door.

“Hullo, is Harry ready to go?” Louis asks.

“I’m not sure. You can go upstairs and knock on his door.”

“Thank you.”

Louis walks through the door and makes his way up to Harry’s room. As he's about to knock, the door opens, and Louis smacks Harry in the face.

“Oops,” Harry says, chuckling and rubbing his forehead.

“Hi,” Louis replies, also laughing to himself. “Are you ready?”

“Um… I think so. Do I look ready?”

“Yep.”

“Then I think I’m ready.”

“Be careful, okay?” Harry’s mum says. “And, Louis, you’d better have Harry home by 1:00AM.”

“Will do!”

When Louis starts up the car, Harry asks him to put on a-Ha’s album _Scoundrel Days_.

“’Cause I already know all the songs from _Hunting High and Low_ ,” he explains, “so I want to hear the other album they’re touring.”

“Fair enough.”

Louis looks around and realizes that he doesn’t have a cassette tape of _Scoundrel Days._

“Hey, man, I don’t think I have that on cassette. Sorry.”

“That’s okay! You can put on the radio.”

Louis nods. “Okay, radio, let’s see what you’ve got lined up for me.”

Duran Duran’s “Girls on Film” is playing.

The journey to Chicago is unsurprisingly boring. There’s really nothing to see between Chicago and East Chicago except the lake in the distance and flat farmland. After an hour of the radio playing and Harry talking to Louis to keep him awake, Louis spots Chicago’s Auditorium Theater.

They find a parking spot and enter the venue.

“Wow, Louis, we’re _really_ close to the stage!” Harry says excitedly. “This is gonna be so much fun.”

“Definitely!”

They wait about an hour and a half for the opening act to finish. Finally, a-Ha enters the stage, beginning their set with “Train of Thought”.

Louis has never seen Harry have so much fun outside of a movie theater. Throughout the whole concert, Harry seems really excited that he knows the words to a lot of the songs. Louis reminds himself to make Harry listen to more of his music so that he’ll be able to sing along with him at more concerts. Harry constantly grabs Louis' arm and points at the stage, making sure he sees the guitar solos or the drum solos happening. At the end, Louis has to remind Harry to stay for the encore.

“Hey, you know this song really well!” Louis says as it begins. He hears the sound of the synthesizer bouncing around, creating a catchy riff. “You ready to sing it with me?”

Harry nods.

“ _Take on me / Take on me! / Take me on / Take on me! / I’ll be gone… / In a day or two!_ ” the crowd belts out together, all of them trying to hit the high note. Louis' throat hurts when the song is over. This song also marks the true end of the concert.

“That was awful,” he laughs, turning towards Harry. “I think Morten was the only one in the building who hit that note – Harry?”

Much to Louis' chagrin, his best friend is nowhere in sight.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Harry! Harry Styles!”

He pushes through people who are all crowding the exit. “Excuse me, Sir? Ma’am? Have you seen a boy about yay high, brown hair, English accent? No? Okay, thanks!”

He checks his watch. It’s already 11:30PM. At this rate, he’ll never get Harry home by curfew, and then he’ll have to explain _why_ Harry wasn’t home by curfew, and Harry's mum will never let them hang out again. This is a fucking disaster.

Louis starts crying around 11:40. It’s completely hopeless. Anything could’ve happened to him – he could’ve been fucking kidnapped! He might not even be at the venue anymore!

“Harry!” Louis calls out again. His voice cracks. “Harry!”

A thought pops into his head – one last hope. _If I were Harry, where would I go so that I could find myself?_

The car!

Louis wipes tears away from his eyes and runs to the parking lot. There are hundreds of cars there, but he remembers where he parked. He and Harry were able to keep track of their spot because it was right under the sign in row R2, and it made Harry think of R2-D2 from _Star Wars_.

Louis reaches the row next to his dad’s car and spots someone leaning against it.

“HARRY!” he shouts.

“LOUIS!”

Louis sprints straight across the lane, nearly being hit by a car in the process. He wraps his arms around his best friend and immediately begins crying again.

“You motherfucking twat, I thought I lost you!” Louis says, crying into Harry's shoulder. “I was looking for you for…” He sneaks a glance at his watch. “For half an hour!”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says. “There was this big group of people near us who started leaving a few minutes before we were going to. I got swept up in the crowd, and by the time I could see my surroundings again, you were gone. I wandered around looking for you, and then realized that if we were both moving we’d never find each other, so I came out here and hoped you’d come.”

“Well, I’m very glad to see you, to say the least. I could fucking kiss you.” Louis doesn’t even care that that’s a risky comment; he's just happy to see Harry again. “I think we should head home. Your mum’s gonna kill me if you’re late.”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

They get into the car together. “God, you had me so worried, Harry. Don’t ever do that again.”

He nods, and Louis drives the car out of the parking lot.

* * *

October 31st, 1986

It’s been over a month since the scare at the a-Ha concert, but seeing as it’s Halloween, everything has still been pretty scary lately. Decorations have been hung up at school and around the block for the past few weeks, and every store is selling costumes and tricks. Louis and his mum have been working on a costume that he refuses to show to Harry, and Harry and his mum have been working on a little something of our own. Louis already knows Harry's going as a Beatle, though; Harry couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut when Louis asked.

Last year, Louis went as… Harry thinks Louis said he was Jim Morrison? Harry can’t remember what band he’s from, but Harry thought Louis just looked like a hippie. Harry went as Marty McFly.

The plan for tonight is to go trick-or-treating (who says 16-year-olds can’t go trick-or-treating?), then stop by Niall’s Halloween party. (Niall  _insisted_ that they at least stop by.) Louis and Harry invited Liam to come trick-or-treating, but now that the winter sports season is approaching, he has more team-building things to do with his mates on the football ( _soccer_ ) team. They’re all going to stay at Niall’s party the whole night, so he has to go with them.

Harry finishes his dinner and bikes to Louis’ house. Fizzy opens the door.

“Harry!” she says with a smile. She’s dressed as Dorothy from _The Wizard of Oz_.

“Hey, Fiz! Can I see Louis?”

She pouts and shakes her head. “Louis said not to let you go upstairs.”

“Hm. Okay.”

Harry steps into the house and adjusts the collar on his gray jacket. His gray slacks and black dress shoes mimic that of the early Beatles uniforms, and his hair – for once – has no trace of gel in it. Instead, it lies flat against his forehead. (His mum helped him straighten it.) He drew a Beatles-style guitar on a piece of cardboard and borrowed a guitar strap from Louis to complete his costume. He's actually pretty proud of it.

“… I’ll be fine, Mum! I’m sparkly enough to be a firework – I’m sure Harry won’t lose me.”

Harry perks up when he hears Louis’ voice coming from upstairs and hears footsteps approaching. _Sparkly? I wonder what he’s planning—_

His thoughts are interrupted when Louis himself appears at the top of his staircase in knee-high shoes, a long-sleeved shirt, and tiny shorts, all made of a shimmering silver material. A red-and-blue lightning bolt is drawn on his face, and his hair is spiked.

Harry's jaw hits the floor.

“What do you think?” Louis asks with a devilish grin.

“Is it… David Bowie?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, pretty much. I was going more for Ziggy Stardust, but y’know – same person.” He walks down the stairs, and Harry notices that his nails are painted blue, too. “You make such a cute Beatle! I think you look like Paul McCartney, if I’m being honest.” Harry blushes, since everyone knows that Paul is the cutest Beatle.

He gives Louis’ costume a head-to-toe glance. He's glad that his makeshift guitar is covering the front of his trousers, because Louis looks _hot_ in that costume.

“Okay, we should really get going so we have time to stop by Niall’s party,” Harry says quickly, holding up his empty pillowcase. “Let’s get some fucking candy.”

“Agreed.”

They head to every house on the block, and they’re greeted mostly with friendly smiles and costume compliments. Their pillowcases get heavier and heavier throughout the night. Around 9:00, when most kids are done trick-or-treating and almost all the candy is gone, they head to Louis’ house to get his car.

“Did you get a lot of candy?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, a ton! You?”

“I got a lot. I’m afraid Mum’s gonna make me throw some of it out.”

“We can hide it all somewhere and eat it together.”

“Sounds fun.”

Harry's cardboard guitar sits in his lap. At a pause in conversation, he props it up. Bopping his head back and forth so that his hair flops around, he pretends to play it.

“ _Well, she was just seventeen / You know what I mean / And the way she looked / Was way beyond compare…_ ”

He hears Louis’ bright voice chime in.

“ _Now, I’ll never dance with another / Since I saw her standing there._ ”

Harry does his best impression of a Paul-McCartney-esque scream, and Louis laughs at him. Harry shoves him and tells him to keep his eyes on the road.

—

At Niall’s house, they walk in to find Niall himself in the front room, holding a beer. He’s obviously dressed as John Bender from _The Breakfast Club_. (He might be wasted, but at least he’s got good taste.)

“Whoa, Louis, you look far out, man!” Niall says. “Sick Bowie costume.”

“Thanks. Are you… John Bender?”

Harry feigns surprise. “ _Louis_! You didn’t tell me you actually _pay attention_ when we watch films together!”

“Fuck off.” He’s smiling to himself.

“Dickhead.” Harry looks around. “Hey, I’m gonna see if I can find Liam – d’you wanna come with?”

“Yeah.”

Louis follows Harry through the house. They stop at the top of the staircase to the third floor, and Harry takes out a chocolate he's snagged from a bowl in the house. Louis watches as he eats.

When Harry's finished, Louis says, “You’ve got a little chocolate right here.” He motions to a corner of his mouth. Harry searches for it on his face, but to no avail.

“Let me get it,” Louis says. He reaches up and wipes it off with his thumb. Harry tries not to pay attention to Louis' hand delicately caressing the side of my face, or how soft and warm it is. “There.”

They're quite close, and Harry starts to lean in towards him. And it might be Harry's imagination, but it kind of looks like Louis is leaning ever so slightly towards him, too. _Is he… trying to kiss me? No, that would be ridiculous. He doesn’t like boys. Does he?_ Harry realizes that he and Louis have almost never talked about girls before, and he begins to wonder why.

Just as Harry's about to make the mistake of actually kissing him, a zombie jumps in front of them and yells, “Trick or treat!”

Harry jolts backwards immediately and lets out a scream that he's not very proud to have let out. Louis starts laughing so hard that he falls over.

“Hey, that’s not funny, Liam!” Harry pouts.

“It was… _so_ funny…!” Louis wheezes in response.

Harry crosses his arms and sighs. “Hi, Liam.”

“Hey, guys.”

Louis is still on the floor, recovering from his fit of laughter.

“Your zombie makeup is really good,” Harry continues. “With your jacket on you kinda look like someone from the ‘Thriller’ video.”

“Thanks! That was what I was going for.”

Louis stands up and brushes off his costume.

“Are you done now?” Harry asks, cocking an eyebrow.

Louis nods. “Yep.”

“Great. I thought we could maybe head back downstairs and see what’s going on.”

“Cool.”

The three of them make their way down the staircase.

* * *

November 14th, 1986

Harry wasn’t at school today. Louis was pretty lonely without him, but he's mostly worried. Harry hates missing school – he doesn’t like doing make-up work. Louis had to go to work first, but now that his shift is done, he's biking to Harry's house to see what’s up.

When Louis knocks on the door and Harry's stepdad opens it, he tells him that Harry’s been waiting all day for Louis to come over.

Louis quietly steps into Harry's room and sets his backpack down by the door, toeing his shoes off. Harry’s lying in his bed, surrounded by tissues.

“Louis!” he whispers, then coughs.

“Well, now I know why you weren’t at school today,” Louis says softly. He walks over and sits on the end of Harry's bed. “You look like you’re dying.”

Harry scoffs, then coughs again. “Thanks.”

“You _sound_ like you’re dying, too. When did this happen?”

“I threw up last night, and I’ve felt like complete shit ever since.” He smiles just a bit, with a far-off look on his face. God only knows how much medication he’s on right now. “I knew you’d come over to check on me.”

“Of course. Have you—?”

“Yes, I’ve had some tea. _Lots_ of tea,” he interrupts.

Louis' mouth falls open. “How did you know I was going to ask if you’d had tea?!”

“Tea is your answer to _everything_.”

“You know me too well. I’m not sure I like it.”

“Well, you’ve got no choice. There’s…” He reaches over to his nightstand and grabs a tissue, then blows his nose. “There’s no turning back now.”

“Have you watched any good films today?”

“Yeah, I, uh… I put in _A New Hope_ earlier, but I’ve mostly just slept.”

“Good. I hate to admit it, but sleep is a much better remedy for sickness than tea.”

“Very true. Tea is a lifesaver when it comes to a sore throat, though.”

“Also true.”

Harry pauses. “Louis, will you sing me a song?”

Louis sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I’m sick; you _have_ to sing me a song. To make me feel better.”

“Fine.”

“It can be any song.”

“Okay. Uh… this is one I wrote a while ago.” Louis clears his throat. “ _I told her that I loved her / Was not sure if she heard / The roof was pretty windy, and she didn’t say a word / Party died downstairs, had nothing left to do / Just me, her, and the moon…_ ”

Harry closes his eyes about halfway through the song, but Louis doesn’t think he’s asleep, so he keeps singing.

“… _All I know at the end of the day / Is you love who you love, there ain’t no other way / If there’s something I’ve learned from a million mistakes / You’re the one that I want at the end of the day._ ”

“That was a nice song,” Harry says, his voice still hoarse. “Who’s it about?”

“It’s actually about, uh…” Louis realizes that he doesn’t know what Harry’s views are about gay people. _Should I tell him?_ “It’s about a lesbian couple.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I get it. The ‘you love who you love’ thing. That’s cool.”

“Mhm. So, you’re, um… you don’t have anything against gay people?”

“Why would I?” There’s something funny about his voice that Louis can’t quite put his finger on, though it might just be his sore throat. “I, er… I mean, they’re just people. Like you and me.”

 _Like you and me_. The words echo in Louis' head. _If only he knew…_

Louis would tell him, but he doesn’t want to drop any big news on Harry right now. He’s got enough to deal with.

Louis stays at his bedside for another hour or so, then bikes home for dinner.

* * *

December 3rd, 1986

It’s been very cold for a while now, and the occupants of East Chicago have been expecting the first snow to fall. On Monday, it started snowing pretty hard, and it continued on into Tuesday, though Harry and Louis still had to go to school.

Today, Harry wakes up and can’t see where the sidewalk ends and the street begins. Icicles hang from the roof. The thermometer says it’s around 23°F outside.

He listens anxiously to the radio as it lists off the names of schools that are closed today, and he prays that they have a snow day. He doesn’t even know if he’d be able to _get_ to school through the thick white blanket covering the city.

“… _Darlington Oak Elementary School, Dwight D. Eisenhower Elementary School, East Chicago High School…_ ”

Harry perks up. _East Chicago High?_ That means no school today!

He hears the phone ring and runs over to get it.

“Hello, this is Harry Styles. Who’s this?”

“ _It’s Louis. Don’t come over to my house; I’m about to walk over to yours._ ”

“Wait, what? It’s, like, a 20-minute walk, and the whole city is covered in sn—”

“ _See you soon!_ ”

Harry hears a tone coming from the phone that lets him know Louis' hung up.

Harry walks over to his closet and puts on a sweater and a jacket. Even inside the house, it’s pretty cold.

About half an hour later, he hears a knock on the front door. Louis is standing there, shivering, in boots, earmuffs, and what looks like about 3 layers of clothing. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are pink and shiny.

“I can’t believe you fucking walked here in the snow,” Harry says, letting him inside. “What’s your damage?!”

“I wanted to hang with you!” he says. Harry sits him down in the living room and hands him some blankets. In the meantime, Harry begins making him tea.

“So, uh… what were you planning on doing?” Harry asks. “We could watch a film, or play cards, or bring out Scrabble – you know how much I love Scrabble – oh, and we could even come up with a new music video concept, or something like that!”

Louis smiles. “Those sound like a lot of fun, but, uh… I was thinking we could do something _outside_.”

“ _Outside_?!”

“Outside.”

“But—”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

He hands Louis a mug of tea.

“Thank you. But, seriously – _please_?” Louis looks at him longingly, and Harry caves in.

“Fine. Why do you even want to outside, anyway? Didn’t you just tromp through tons of snow to get here?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not gonna stop me!”

Harry sighs. “I’ll go get a thicker jumper.”

—

Once Louis has been sufficiently warmed up, they walk out into the snow. It’s still fairly early, and no one wants to go out in this weather, so the white blanket is practically untouched. It’s still snowing very, very lightly.

“You know, it’s actually quite peaceful out here,” Harry comments, surveying his surroundings.

“Not for long.”

He feels something smack into his shoulder. He whirls around and sees Louis staring at him with an impish look on his face. He’s holding a moderately-sized snowball in his hand.

“Oh, _I_ see how it is,” Harry says, scooping up a fistful of snow and chucking it at him.

A fight ensues. Neither of them is patient enough to make actual snowballs, so they end up tossing clumps of snow that fall apart before they even reach the other person.

Louis tells Harry he’s tired, but Harry needs to get the last laugh, so he plants a palmful of snow right on Louis' face to declare his victory.

Louis gasps and shoves him. He shoves back.

Harry manages to push him onto the ground after much shoving back-and-forth. He kneels on the ground next to Louis and pins his arms back.

“Say ‘Uncle’!” Harry demands.

“Never!”

“Say it!”

“Over my dead body!”

Eventually, Harry's the one who gives up. He pulls Louis up, wrapping an arm around him and giving him a noogie. Louis laughs the entire time. When Harry lets go of him, he falls onto his lap, still laughing. Harry can't help but laugh along.

“Why are we laughing?” he asks.

“’Cause you’re so funny!”

“In what way?”

“You just…” Louis sighs. “You’re a funny guy.” He’s got this dopey, fond look on his face.

“I am?”

“Yep.”

He furrows his brow. “Hang on, there’s a snowflake caught on your eyelashes.”

He reaches up, but instead of going towards Harry's eyelashes, he yanks his head down and begins giving him a revenge noogie.

“You fucking bastard!” Harry says in between giggles. “I can’t believe you did me that dirty!”

Suddenly, Louis’ arms drop, and he stops torturing Harry. Harry turns to face him with a worried look. “It was something I said, wasn’t it?”

“Um… well…” He shifts uncomfortably, and Harry can tell he fucked up badly.

“You can tell me, Lou.” He puts a hand on his back.

“My mum, she just… she had me when she was young… and my dad left… and, uh, that word makes me uncomfortable ‘cause… yeah. It’s kinda personal. And kinda true.”

“Oh, man, I’m so sorry – I didn’t know, I swear!”

“Don’t worry, I believe you! I know you were just joking around. But, if you could, like, refrain from calling me that, though… I’d, uh… I’d appreciate it.”

Harry nods. There’s an uncomfortable silence between them.

After some time, Harry says, “It’s not true.”

“What?”

“You said it was ‘kinda true’. But, it’s not. You’re definitely not a bastard, like, _at all_ , okay? Please, don’t ever think that about yourself. Even if you were a—a _you know_ – which you are _not_ – it wouldn’t matter, okay? Just ‘cause you might not have been intentional doesn’t mean that you’re any less than anyone else.

“And it totally doesn’t mean you’re not wanted. You have a big family who wants you and loves you, and my family likes you, too, and I… well, I don’t even know what I’d do without you. High school would definitely suck even more, for starters.”

A small smile makes its way onto Louis’ face. “Thanks, Harry.”

Harry's stepfather opens the door to the house. He’s holding two shovels.

“If you’re going to muck around out there, could you two at least shovel the driveway?”

“Ugh.” Harry sighs and rolls his eyes. “I guess so.”

“C’mon, get up off your lazy ass! I’ll help,” Louis says. He gets up and sticks out a hand to pull Harry up.

It takes them about an hour to clear the driveway enough to win the approval of Harry's stepdad. When they're done, they sit down against one of the piles of snow they've made.

“Y’know, Harry, we have this giant pile of snow sitting here – we could make a snow fort!”

Harry cocks an eyebrow. “A _snow fort_? I swear to God, Lou, you’re like a _child_.”

“Well, spoilsports don’t get to come into my fort!” he teases. He begins to dig into the giant mound of snow. Reluctantly, Harry helps him.

They manage to dig a fairly deep and wide tunnel into the snow, though it takes them over two hours. Then, they sit down inside their fort, exhausted. Harry's afraid the fort is going to collapse on top of them.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Louis says confidently.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“That this thing is going to collapse and trap us in here.”

“That’s not— oh. That _is_ what I was thinking.”

“It’s not going to happen. I’ll protect you.”

He wraps his arms around Harry and leans his head on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Harry starts, “about earlier – again, I’m really, really, really sorry that I called you that. I honestly didn’t know.”

“Shh. I forgive you.”

Harry leans back against their fort. Louis closes his eyes, and Harry thinks he’s about to fall asleep.

Soon, Harry begins to fall asleep, too, and they take a nap together in the privacy of their snow fort.

* * *

December 8th, 1986

“Louis, come here for a minute, sweetie,” his mum says. He's just finished his homework and has just gone into the kitchen to get a snack.

“Yeah?” he asks, munching on some Oreos.

“Remember how we went on holiday to Colorado last year?”

“Yes! Oh, my goodness, I meant to ask if we could go there again this year—”

“We can’t,” she interrupts. “We just can’t afford to go this year. I’m sorry, Louis.”

His face falls. “So… no holiday with Harry’s family?”

“No; not unless his family is staying here.”

“Oh.”

“I know.”

“Okay. Uh… thanks for telling me, I guess?”

He trudges upstairs to his room.

—

“You know, Mum, I’ve been meaning to ask you if we could go back to Colorado this year on holiday. We had a great time last year,” Harry says. He's at the dinner table with his parents.

“Actually, love, we can’t go this year,” his mum answers.

His face falls. He sets his fork down. “Why not?”

“We’re going back to England for the holidays. We’ll spend Christmas and New Year’s with your grandparents, and we’ll get to see your sister – it’ll be nice.”

“How long will we be staying there?”

“Almost the entire holiday.”

His mouth drops open a bit. He wants to see his family again, but he doesn’t want to spend almost two weeks away from Louis!

“Okay.” He gets up from the table. “I’m not really that hungry.”

He goes upstairs to his room and dials the buttons on the telephone. _2… 1… 9…_

“ _Louis Tomlinson, who’s this?_ ”

“It’s Harry.”

“ _Oh, hey! I wasn’t expecting a call from you tonight. What’s up?_ ”

“Guess who’s going to England for the holidays.”

Silence fills the line between them, save for the static of the phone.

“… _You’ve gotta be bloody joking_.”

“I wish.”

“ _Well, I couldn’t have gone to Colorado again this year, anyway. We can’t afford it. But, I suppose we both could have stayed here and had a fun holiday._ ” He sighs. “ _I can’t even bleedin’_ call _you in England. What am I supposed to do for two weeks?!”_

“I dunno, mate. I was honestly hoping that, wherever we ended up going, we could film a new music video for you. Having a snowy setting could really work, depending on the song.”

“ _Yeah. Maybe we can make one when you get back_.” He sounds dejected.

“Totally.” Harry clears his throat. “I’ve gotta go shower and stuff; get ready for bed. See you tomorrow.”

_“Bye.”_

“Bye.”

Harry hangs up.

* * *

December 22nd, 1986

Harry left for England two days ago. Louis' stepdad drove Harry’s family to the airport, so Louis got to say goodbye to him, but it still sucked. Now, Louis is bored out of his mind.

 _What did I even do before I met Harry?_ He listened to music and wrote music, but that’s about it.

Currently, he's lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Harry. Not being with him every second of the day has made Louis realize just how much he desires and cherishes his company. Louis… gosh, Louis  _loves_ him, and not just in a romantic way. (But, also in, like, in a pretty damn romantic way.)

Louis closes his eyes and heaves a sigh. He begins to hum a soft, slow little tune.

Is it too much to ask for something amazing? An amazing relationship like the ones in Harry’s beloved films? When you’re gay in this society, though, Louis guesses it really _is_ too much to ask.

What he wouldn’t give to have Harry walk over to his house one day and confess his undying love for Louis, and to say all the things Louis has always thought about him. Louis wants to lie next to Harry like this in bed and feel the warmth of his body, and he wants to kiss the mole on his cheek, right by the corner of his mouth. And… fuck. It’s so _painful_ , imagining all of this, especially since it’s never going to happen. Louis is literally going to be lonely and bitter forever. He'll never move on from Harry.

He slowly sits up and tries to recall the tune he was humming before. Then, he rolls his desk chair over to the dresser and takes his notebook off the top of it. Suddenly infused with energy and emotion, he sits down at his keyboard and plugs his headphones into it. _D, E, D, E… No, wait, not E… F_ _♯_ _, that’s it!… E, D, G._ Hey, not bad!

He works in lyrics as he goes along. “Is it too much to ask for something amazing?” doesn’t fit; he needs a shorter word. _Awesome; good; great; grand…_ Hold on. He likes the sound of “great”.

Over the course of a few hours, Louis comes up with a chorus, verses, and a bridge. (He even included a couple of clever little lines that allude to a movie script.) All he needs now is a way to end it, since the current ending doesn’t feel very finite.

He decides to pour out his soul in the last lines of the song by repeating the lines “ _You’re all I want / So much it’s hurting_ ” twice. This marks the completion of his newest song, “Something Great”.

It’s a heartfelt tune that’s much more emotional than it was originally intended to be. He's actually afraid he might start crying if he sings it out loud. He guesses that’s one of the great things about music, though: it’s at its best when it evokes emotion in listeners and writers.

He finishes jotting down notes and lyrics in his notebook, then closes it for now and puts it back on top of his dresser.

Once again, he's very bored.

He looks at his shelf and sees books of Shakespeare’s works. He had to buy those for school a while back, though he’d never actually done the reading. What makes William Shakespeare so special, huh? Why does everyone praise him so much?

Louis grabs a book and sits down. It says “HAMLET” in fancy letters on the front. He recalls Harry telling him he likes this play a lot.

He opens it.

“SCENE I. Elsinore. A platform before the castle,” it says. “ _FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO_.”

Louis begins to read.

* * *

December 24th, 1986

Today is Louis' 17th birthday. It’s very lonely without Harry. When he wakes up and looks out his window, he sees that it’s bright and sunny outside, and he wishes his best friend were there so they could run around in the piles of snow together.

He sees his bedroom door open just a bit.

“Boo-Bear?” a small voice asks, and he reminds himself _never_ to let Harry know about the nickname his sisters have given him. Harry would never address him by his real name again.

“I’m awake,” Louis responds quietly.

He hears a slight gasp, and Phoebe runs into the room. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Phoebs!” He picks her up and sets her in his lap.

“Mummy made you breakfast. And Mummy and Daddy got you a very special… oops. Mummy and Daddy told me not to tell you about the present. It’s a secret.”

“A secret?”

She nods enthusiastically.

“Okay. I won’t tell them that you told me about it.”

“Thank you. Come eat your breakfast now!”

“Alright.”

He puts slippers on and walks down to the kitchen, where a large plate of French toast, eggs, and bacon awaits him.

“Happy birthday, Louis!” his mum says, kissing his head and setting his plate down in front of him.

“Thanks.” He takes a bite of the toast. “Ooh, this is really good!”

After receiving a number of birthday wishes and saying multiple thank-you’s, he eats his breakfast in silence. Louis thinks his parents know something’s up.

“Hey, why the long face?” his stepdad asks him. “Did I overcook the bacon?”

“No; the food is very good,” Louis assures him. “I miss Harry, though. I wanted to spend my birthday with him.”

“Hm. Well, I can’t bring Harry over here right now, but I think I have something for you that’ll make you feel better.”

Louis perks up a bit. “Like what?”

“If you throw on a jumper and come outside with me when you finish your breakfast, I’ll show you.”

“Outside?”

“Yep.”

“I guess so.”

He goes upstairs, not even bothering to change out of his pajamas. He puts on boots and a thick coat, then meets his parents by the front door.

“I’m going to need you to close your eyes,” his mum says.

He closes his eyes and covers them with his hands. He feels a hand on his back, leading him out of the house. It might be sunny outside, but the air is cold and biting. Louis wishes he’d worn gloves.

“Okay, do _not_ open your eyes, but hold out your hands.”

Louis does as he's told. Something small falls into his palms, and it makes a jingling sound.

“You can open your eyes. Happy birthday, Louis!”

Slowly, he opens his eyes. A small, black pickup truck sits on the driveway in front of him. The object in his hand is a key with his name on a keychain in capital letters.

Louis gasps, and the biggest smile ever spreads across his face. “ _A_ _car_?! You got me my own _car_?! Holy shit! Sorry, I mean – holy _shit_! Thank you, thank you so, so much!”

He hugs his parents.

“It’s the reason we couldn’t go on holiday,” his mum explains. “We thought it was a sacrifice you’d be okay with once you found out what we got you.”

He nods vigorously. “It’s perfect,” he assures her. “Thank you, again!”

She gives him a tight hug.

* * *

December 31st, 1986

It’s 2 minutes to midnight, and Louis is staring out his window at the sky. People all around the neighborhood are counting down until 1987 arrives. He's wondering what the new year will bring for him.

As he hears people beginning to count down from 10, he decides to make a wish. He's not one for believing in things like New Year’s wishes or resolutions – after all, it’s just another day – but something feels different this time.

So, he looks up at the moon and makes his wish: _I hope that 1987 is the best year of my life_. He knows it’s ridiculous, but maybe the wish will inspire him to work towards making this his best year yet.

Fireworks go off, and he hears the neighborhood erupt into laughter and cheering as the clock strikes midnight.

—

Time zones are so bizarre.

It’s nearly 12am on the first day of 1987, and all Harry can think about is how Louis isn’t going to be in 1987 until 6 hours from now.

Harry misses him a lot. Going back to Holmes Chapel and seeing his sister, relatives, and old friends again has been really fun, but he longs to be with his best friend. New years are supposed to be about starting again, right? Holmes Chapel makes him think about the past, when he should really focus more on the future and what new things 1987 is going to bring into his life.

When the clock strikes twelve, Harry's still thinking about Louis. He can’t wait to go home.


	3. 1987

January 3rd, 1987

“Hey, Louis. Louis, sweetheart, I— why don’t you try? He’s a pretty heavy sleeper. I’m not sure we’ll be able to wake him.”

“Lou. _Louuuiiis_.”

“Go’way,” Louis grumbles, pulling the covers over his head and ignoring the voices he hears around him. “’S too early.”

“It’s nearly noon,” one of the voices he heard before says.

Slowly, but surely, he stretches. He turns over and rubs his eyes. When his vision focuses, he sees brown hair and dimples.

“Harry?” he murmurs. Suddenly, he realizes what’s happening. “Oh. Wait! Harry! You’re back!”

Louis sits up and wraps his arms around Harry. “How was England?”

“Cold and dreary.”

“Sounds about right. Did you get to see your sister?”

“Yeah, and my grandparents, too. And some of my friends.”

“That sounds great.”

Harry smirks. “Y’know, your mum said I could give you your presents as soon as you get up and get dressed…”

“Presents?”

“Yes, you dummy!”

Louis sighs. “I guess I’ve got to get up, then, don’t I?”

Harry nods.

Louis takes a shower and throws on a cozy jumper and joggers. He then takes a seat on his bed.

Harry begins by saying, “Alright, so… I may or may not have been told in advance that you got a car for your birthday. I got some things for your car.”

He takes a cassette tape out of the bag he’s holding. “The person at the store said that _Arrival_ is ABBA’s album with ‘Dancing Queen’ on it, so I bought you _Arrival_ ‘cause you’re the dancing queen now that you’re young and sweet, only seventeen.”

He takes another tape out of the bag. “And, I got you _Songs From the Big Chair_ by Tears for Fears ‘cause I know you like them. _And_ ,” he continues, “I got _this_ to hang from your rearview mirror.”

He holds up a tiny little disco ball.

“Aw, that’s so cute, Harry!” Louis takes the tapes and disco ball from him.

As Louis is about to thank him, Harry says, “And here’re some Haribo gummy bears ‘cause I didn’t know what kind of candy you liked, so I got my favorite.”

“Thank you.” Louis gives him a big hug. Harry’s really warm, and his sweater is very soft. “I kind of have a gift for you, too. Remember how you wanted to make a music video in the snow? Well, I wrote some new songs while you were away. You can pick one to film when it snows again.”

Harry grabs Louis' notebook from its shelf. Louis expects him to open it, but Harry simply hands it to him. Louis can tell he sees what Louis was thinking.

“I would never open that without your explicit permission,” Harry tells him, and Louis is flattered by the courtesy he’s showing him.

“Thank you. For, uh… respecting my privacy. Means a lot.”

He opens the little book and searches through it. He thinks about showing him that personal song, “Something Great”, but decides against it.

“Look at these few pages and tell me what you think.”

He hands the book back to Harry, indicating which pages he’s allowed to look at. Harry flips through them with a focused expression. Louis can practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“What about this one? ‘Hey Angel’?” Harry suggests. “The white of the snow would work perfectly with the angelic theme. Can I hear a bit of this?”

Louis nods and grabs his electric guitar while he waits for his keyboard to start up.

“You don’t have to sing if you don’t want to – I just wanna hear what it sounds like. See if it fits my vision.”

Louis gives him a thumbs-up, then plays the keyboard on an organ setting for a few notes.

“It starts out with this organ playing, and then I come in with the guitar,” he explains. He plays a riff on the guitar.

“That’s _perfect_!” Harry exclaims with a delighted expression. “We’ll have to find time to film – if it snows on Friday or Saturday we could film this weekend. It snowed a bit overnight, but I’m too tired to film today, anyway. The flight back screwed up my sleep schedule.”

Louis puts his instruments away. “I can make us some hot cocoa or tea, if you’d like that? And we can sit in my bed under the covers. You can tell me about your trip.”

“I’d like that. And, hot cocoa, please.”

“Alright. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Louis leaves his room and closes the door.

* * *

January 11th, 1987

It’s Sunday. Harry and Louis went back to school this week, and Harry's been looking out his window every day to see if a fresh layer of snow’s fallen. So far, he's had no such luck.

Today, he wakes up and it’s cloudy outside. He looks out into the yard and sees a perfect layer of white snow covering the world around him. It’s very peaceful, and he knows it’ll be perfect for filming.

“Lou, it’s Harry,” he says into the phone. “Did you see the fresh snowfall?”

_“Yep. I think we’ve got our setting for the music video.”_

“You betcha. What time do you want to come over?”

_“Hmm… Mum had some errands to run, and my stepdad’s still sleeping, so I’ve gotta make breakfast for the girls. I’ll be there around… let’s say 10:30?”_

“Alright. I’ll see you then.”

Harry hangs up and begins taking out his camera. Then, he looks for props. He wants Louis to be wearing all white, but he can only find white trousers, so he calls Louis again. He doesn’t pick up, so Harry tries his landline. A little girl’s voice asks who it is.

“This is Harry. Can I please speak to Louis?”

_“No. He’s making eggs.”_

“Well, could you, uh… can you ask him if he has a white shirt he can bring?”

In the background, he hears Louis’ sister say, _“Boo-Bear? Harry wants to know if you have a white shirt!”_

Harry starts cracking up. Is _that_ what his sisters call him? _Boo-Bear_?! God, he's  _never_ going to let Louis hear the end of this one when he gets there.

_“He says he has a white sweater.”_

“Perfect! Thank you!”

Harry hangs up the phone again and continues to set up their equipment for the music video.

Louis gets there at 10:30, as planned. They head outside into the cold.

“How come I have to stand out here with, like, 2 layers and you get to wear that super-heavy jumper?” Louis asks.

“’Cause I’m not in the music video.”

Louis huffs and crosses his arms. Harry sees a puff of air come from his mouth.

“We can take breaks so you don’t get hypothermia. Now, scoot back so that you’re not in the shadow of the house.”

“What shadow, mate? It’s cloudy.”

“Oh, my God, just step away from the house.” Harry smirks. “… _Boo-Bear_.”

Louis gasps. “Shut the fuck up. Where did you hear that name?!”

Harry shrugs. “Your sister said it while we were on the phone earlier.”

“God fucking damn it.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been _keeping nicknames from me_ ,” he teases. “I thought best friends told each other _everything_.”

Louis is trying to keep a straight face. It’s not working. “You’re such a little shit.”

“Guess so.” Harry shrugs. “You moved out of the brighter spot. Move back.”

Louis does as he’s told.

“Great. So, this is going to be a pretty simple video; just shots of you singing from different angles. But it’s gonna look really good.”

He turns on Louis’ boombox, and it plays his recording of his song “Hey Angel”. He begins mouthing the words.

Harry ends up filming the entire song from one angle. Then, he films the entire song from another angle, then further away, and then a closeup of his profile. Harry’ll edit it to his liking later on. They end up forgetting to take breaks, ‘cause it’s a lot of fun.

At the end, Harry tells Louis his work is done. He’s shaking, and his nose, ears, and cheeks are tinted pink.

“C-can we go inside?” he chatters.

“Yeah. I’ll make you some tea.”

Harry takes Louis into the den and lights the fire in the fireplace. Then, he wraps him in a bunch of blankets and goes to the kitchen to make tea. When Harry comes back with the drink, he hands it to Louis and sits down next to him on the floor. The fireplace crackles.

Louis takes a couple sips of his tea, then sets it down in front of him. He wraps part of the blanket around Harry's shoulders, pulling them closer together, and rests his head on Harry's shoulder.

“You’re so warm,” Louis says. He hums contentedly. Harry is rarely this close to him, and he feels a little awkward. After a while, he feels Louis' hands fumbling with the hem of his sweater. _What is he_ doing _?_

Harry soon finds out. Louis presses his icy palms flat against Harry's stomach, making him shriek.

“Louis! That was so _mean_!”

Louis shrugs it off like nothing’s happened. Eventually, he comes to rest his head in Harry's lap, and he falls asleep.

* * *

January 23rd, 1987

“ _You_ were the one who thought of ice skating,” Louis says. “I don’t see why you want to back out now.” He hands money to the man behind the counter.

“I did not! You totally thought of going ice skating, like, _months_ ago. I just finally said yes,” Harry retorts.

“Well, act like you want to be here, then! It’ll be fun.”

“I know, but… I really don’t want to hurt myself. You know I’m barely capable of maneuvering myself when I’m _walking_ , let alone _skating_. Don’t you remember when we went roller skating?”

“Yes, I remember that; you did fine. You need to stop worrying about everything so much.”

“I worry a _perfect_ amount. You overestimate my abilities when it comes to my balancing skills.”

“You worry a _lot_ …” Louis says in a sing-song voice as he takes his skates over to a bench so he can put them on.

“I do _not_ worry a lot.”

“If you say so…” He gets up and gets onto the ice. “C’mon, Harry, it’s way less difficult than you think it is!”

“But… what if—?”

“What did I _just_ tell you about worrying?” Louis asks.

Harry heaves a large sigh and steps onto the ice.

“I’ll hold your hand, if you want me to,” Louis says. _Please, dear God, let him say yes_ , he thinks. _Just let me hold his fucking hand._

“Okay.” Harry grabs onto his hand. They both have mittens on, but Louis can almost _feel_ his hormones jittering.

“Look; it’s just like roller-skating,” he explains. “Put one foot in front of the other and glide. And keep your arms spread out.”

Eventually, Harry seems to be getting it. Louis lets go.

As usual, he's right. Harry had nothing to worry about; he’s gliding along just fine. He’s like a little baby bird who just learned how to fly.

“Lou, look! I’m doing it!” he says excitedly.

Louis gives him two thumbs-up. He's not looking at where he's going anymore – Harry’s blinding smile is distracting as hell – and he slips and falls flat on his ass.

Harry laughs at him.

“And you thought _you_ were gonna be the one falling,” Louis says. “Can you help me up?”

With some struggling, they manage to get him back on his feet, and they keep going.

* * *

January 28th, 1987

Harry walks down the hallway at school, trying to find his locker. Louis usually meets him here around this time, since Louis' next class is right near it.

As Harry is making his way down the hall, Chad strolls past. He gives Harry a hard shove and says “Faggot!”, and Harry slams into the lockers. He plans on brushing it off and forgetting it, since Chad's goal is to make him upset. Unfortunately, Louis saw Chad push him.

Louis starts marching forward, cracking his knuckles. “ _Chad_! Get back here, you coward! Son of a—!”

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry intercedes, stopping him in his path. “Don’t give him what he wants. I’m completely fine.”

Louis’ anger cools, and he speaks a bit lower. “And I’m glad that you’re okay, but that fucking prick can’t bully you and not expect retaliation. You haven’t even done anything to him!”

“Neither have you.”

“Yeah, but – you don’t even _know_ him! – the _nerve_ of him – I swear to God, I’m going to _kill_ him—”

“Louis. I… am… _fine_. Give it a rest.”

Louis huffs. His expression softens, and he asks, “So, how’s your day been?”

“Boring, as usual. Though, Liam and I did a somewhat-interesting lab experiment in Chem today. You?”

“I, uh… I liked seeing _you_ … in History and English…” He has a dopey smile on his face.

“That’s nice. I liked seeing you, too.”

They look at each other silently for a few moments until Harry clears his throat. “So, what I wanted to ask you is: would you like to come over after work today? I bought a gingerbread house for us to decorate.”

“Ooh, that sounds like fun.” The bell rings, letting them know they should get to class. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

Harry waves and walks to class.

—

Louis arrives at Harry's house in the early evening. Harry's mum is running some errands and his stepdad’s at work, so he and Louis have the house to themselves.

“Um… okay, there are little molds for making the different parts of the house, and we have to make the gingerbread on our own. Can you get some of these ingredients out of the fridge?” Harry instructs.

Louis nods. He turns on the radio and opens the fridge. The radio is playing a pop song Harry doesn’t know. He preheats the oven and sorts out the bowls, whisks, and other kitchen utensils he has out on the counter.

“Okay. We need three cups of flour,” Harry says.

Louis scoops up three cups.

“Don’t let it overflow so much,” Harry scolds. “We don’t need a ton.”

Louis takes a pinch of extra flour off the top of the measuring cup and flicks it at him. Harry sneezes.

“Oh, my God. Don’t play with your food, Louis.”

“You, my friend, need to lighten up.” He flicks more flour at him.

Harry huffs and gives him the rest of the instructions. Then, he pours the batter they’ve made into the molds and puts them in the oven. When he turns around, Louis pours a measuring cup full of flour onto his head.

“ _Louis_!”

“It’s just flour!”

“Ugh.” He scoffs and tries to wipe some of the flour onto Louis. “Can you help me clean off the counter a bit?”

“Yeah.”

They wipe the counter, and while Louis is looking down, Harry grabs an egg from the carton.

“Hey, Lou?”

He looks up. “Yeah?”

Harry cracks the egg on Louis' head.

Louis gasps loudly, and Harry looks at him with a smug expression. The yolk of the egg broke when he cracked it, and yellow-orange goop drips down Louis' face and gets in his hair.

“I fucking hate you,” Louis says, and his words are punctuated by an exasperated laugh.

“Aw, Louis! I hate you, too.”

Louis grabs a fistful of sugar and tosses it at him. Harry retaliates with flour.

This goes on for quite some time, all while “99 Luftballons” (as Harry was informed later in the day) plays in the background. Harry and Louis are completely covered in almost every ingredient they used – including a new egg, freshly cracked on Louis’ head. Gosh, he looks so fucking _cute_ , Harry could just kiss him…

Terrified, Harry begins to lean in a little bit. Soon, he's close enough that he could do it. He could kiss Louis right now and live his wildest fantasy. Louis doesn’t look like he realizes what Harry's doing.

He's just put a hand on the side of Louis' face when Louis says, “I think the gingerbread’s ready. And, what are you doing?”

Harry snaps out of it and begins wiping Louis' face with his hand. “I’m getting all this shit off your face, dumbass.”

“You’re, uh… awfully close…” Louis stutters. He looks flustered.

“I wanted to make sure it was the egg that looked bad, not just your face,” Harry retorts.

“Ha, ha. It’s almost like you haven’t used that one a million times before.”

“Bugger off.” Harry takes their gingerbread out of the oven, and they begin assembling a house. They cover the roof in snow made of icing, and there’s a gumdrop gate around the property. Harry even draws icing borders around the door and windows.

“This actually isn’t half bad,” he comments. “I mean, we _did_ make a giant mess, but it turned out nicely.”

It’s that moment that the front door opens up and his mum walks into the kitchen.

“ _Harry_!” she exclaims. She doesn’t look happy. “Look at the mess you’ve made! I can’t believe you – clean this up _right now_!”

“We were just about to clean it, Mum, I promise! We were only having a bit of fun—”

“I don’t care. I want this gone in the next ten minutes, you hear? And you’d better not get flour all over the house, or so help me—!”

“Okay, okay, I’m cleaning!”

“Yikes,” Louis whispers when she’s left. “What do you want me to do first?”

“You can go home,” Harry tells him. “I’m probably in big trouble, and I don’t want you to have to be involved in this mess.”

“Are you sure? I feel like she won’t be as hard on you if I’m here.”

“I’m sure.” Harry smiles tenderly at him as he cleans the molds in the sink.

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

They hug, and Louis leaves.

—

 _“So, what ended up happening?”_ Louis asks over the phone.

“I’m grounded for a week.”

_“Damn! I can’t believe it. You didn’t even do anything wrong.”_

“I know. She can be a bit harsh.”

_“I can see that. So… what exactly does ‘grounded’ entail?”_

“Nothing _too_ bad, but we can’t hang out after school.”

_“This sucks, man.”_

“Yep.”

_“Well, I’ve got an MTV program to watch, so I’ll catch you later. Bye!”_

“Bye.”

Harry hangs up.

* * *

February 14th, 1987

It’s Valentine’s Day, also known as the day Louis is painfully reminded of just how much he  _can’t_ be with Harry. Lucky for him, it’s on a Saturday this year. Last year, since it was on a school day, he was forced to watch as couples sucked face in the hallways and gave each other gifts like teddy bears and chocolates. On a Saturday, he can sit in his room and sulk instead of having to watch all the happy lovebirds.

It’s around 4:00PM when his phone rings. As expected, the caller is Harry.

 _“I had this great idea earlier,”_ Harry tells him. _“Well, I dunno if you’ll like it or not, but anyway – it’s Valentine’s Day.”_

“I’m aware,” Louis grumbles.

_“And Valentine’s Day is all about celebrating love, right? And people tend to make it all about romantic love, but I think platonic love is just as important and should be just as celebrated. And us – well, we have a really good friendship, and friendship is a form of love, and…”_

He chuckles. “Get to the point, Harry.”

“ _Okay, okay. What I’m trying to ask you is if you’d like to go to a diner or something and just, like, hang out tonight. We could dress kinda nice if you want to. And we could have fun on our own. Not like a gay thing!”_ he adds. _“That would be, uh… that would be super weird. And awkward. Not a gay thing. Just two friends. Hanging out on Valentine’s Day. Not a—”_

“I know, Harry. Not a gay thing. And, I’d love to. What, er… do you want to dress up?”

_“Um. Maybe wear something that isn’t ratty trousers and a t-shirt. But nothing fancy. We’re only going to the diner near my place.”_

“Do you want to meet there, or are you gonna pick me up?”

_“I’ll, uh… I’ll pick you up. At 6:30… P.M.”_

“Cool. See ya!”

_“Yeah. See ya!”_

Louis hangs up the phone.

Holy fucking _shit_ … are they going on a _date_?! Like Harry said, it’s not a gay thing, but… it can be a date if Louis wants it to be.

He goes through his closet. Does he even have anything nice to wear? He has, like, a suit or two, but he's definitely not wearing one of those.

He settles for jeans and a red sweater over a white, collared shirt. In the bathroom, he spends 10 minutes alone brushing his teeth so they look whiter than normal. And he couldn't even tell you how much time he spends on his hair.

At 6:34, the doorbell chimes. Harry’s always a few minutes late.

“Hey!” he says. His smile is bright and chipper, and his dimples are the size of craters. Louis is so goddamn sprung on him.

“You look really ha— nice,” Louis says. “You clean up well.”

“Thanks. You, too.”

“Shall we?”

They head over to the car, and Harry gets into the driver’s side.

Louis turns on the radio. Air Supply’s “All Out Of Love” is playing; he guesses the radio stations are really getting into Valentine’s Day.

The drive is surprisingly lacking in conversation. Usually, he and Harry talk a lot in the car.

The diner is old-fashioned, with booths and checkered floors and a jukebox in the corner. An Elvis hit is currently playing, and there are a few other people in there, though it looks mostly like couples and double dates.

Harry asks him about his day so far, and Louis asks him about his. Their conversation gradually becomes more exciting, and by the time they’ve got some dinner in their stomachs, they’re back to the usual banter.

Harry ordered them milkshakes, and Louis takes a sip from his. Harry’s in the middle of telling him a story from his childhood.

“…And then I, like, jumped onto the desk, ‘cause I figured no one was watching, and the table fell over and smacked the kid in the face on the way down. I fell, too, and little 2nd-year me got lunch detention and a broken wrist after the teacher walked in and saw us. That kid was such a snitch – he told the teacher I’d flipped the table on him on purpose.”

Louis is laughing so hard at this point that vanilla milkshake shoots out of his nose. That gets Harry laughing, too. Louis thinks they’re causing a bit of a ruckus. People are staring at them, but Louis doesn’t give a shit. He's having too much fun.

“That reminds me of the time a kid punched me in the face in 6th year,” Louis comments. “He told me he thought my accent was stupid, and I told him I thought _his_ accent was stupid, and he punched me. I hit him back, of course, and he told the teacher that I’d started it. What a fucking prick.”

“Does he go to our school now?”

“Yeah – it was Chad. His mum made him come over to my house and apologize, and we became friends after that. If that doesn’t tell you something about how our friendship was destined to be rocky…”

He trails off and drinks more from his milkshake.

“One day I’m gonna beat the shit out of him,” Harry says. “For doing all this awful stuff to you.”

“I thought you didn’t like to solve your problems with fighting.”

“Yeah, well, I think some people just need to be decked. And Chad is one of them.”

Louis snickers.

“What a dumb name,” Harry continues. “ _Chad_ the _jock_. He sounds like the bully from a cheesy high school film.” He pulls a funny face that’s completely unnecessary and endearing.

Louis is laughing really hard again = Harry is so animated when he speaks.

“What time is it?” Louis asks him. “I have a curfew, y’know.”

Harry checks his watch. “Damn! It’s, like, 1AM.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish. My mum’s gonna kill me.”

“Same.”

Louis leaves money at the table and grabs his wallet. They run over to Harry’s car.

When they arrive at Louis' house, Harry walks him to the front door. Louis decides to hug him. He wraps his arms tightly around Harry's neck, standing on his toes so he can reach. He feels Harry hug his big arms around his waist.

“I was thinking about what you said, about love between friends,” Louis says. “And, this is gonna sound really gay – I promise I’m not a fag or anything – but I’ve never told you before that I really love hanging out with you. ‘Cause, like, I care about you a lot. Like a… a family member. You’re, uh… you’re the best friend I could ever ask for.”

And then, he hears Harry say something Louis never thought he’d hear him say to him: “I love you a lot, too.”

Louis hugs Harry even tighter and buries his face into his shoulder. Then, he pulls away.

“You should get going, or you’re gonna be in even more trouble,” Louis tells him.

“Okay. I’ll see you… maybe tomorrow? Maybe Monday?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you.”

Harry runs to his car, tripping over himself on the way. Louis waves.

When Louis gets to his room, he notices a little bulge in the front of his pants and silently thanks whatever force of nature is out there for keeping Harry from noticing it, too.

Then, the realization of what just happened dawns on him. Harry told Louis he loves him. Harry  _loves him_! It’s not exactly in the way Louis had hoped, and he kind of got pushed into a heterosexual hole, but… Harry said he _loves_ him! _Him_!

Louis flops down onto his bed and yells into his pillow. He feels like a kid in a candy shop. _Harry Styles loves me!_

Suddenly, the light turns on in the hallway. His mum knows he's home.

Oh, dear.

* * *

March 1, 1987

Louis and Harry both got grounded for 2 weeks, so they’re finally off the hook today. Harry was mad ‘cause he had to wait 2 extra days to see the new film written by John Hughes, _Some Kind of Wonderful._ Louis wanted to see it with him, but his mum had a doctor’s appointment and she had promised his sisters she’d take them to the park, so Louis had to take them, instead. The temperature out there isn’t so bad, though.

One good thing that’s happened in the past few weeks is that nothing’s become weird between Louis and Harry. Louis thought it might be awkward, seeing him again after the whole “I love you” ordeal, but Harry hasn’t even mentioned it. Everything is back to normal. (Louis does wonder every once in a while why Harry didn’t act weird about it, though…)

“Lottie, don’t hurt yourself, love,” he tells her as she climbs across the top of the monkey bars. “And, Daisy, don’t even _think_ about it.” She’s about to push Fizzy face-first off the play structure.

Babysitting is so tiring.

 _Where’s Phoebe?,_ Louis wonders. When he turns around, she’s at the swing set.

“Boo-Bear, will you push me?” Phoebe asks.

“I can do it,” a voice behind him says.

“Harry!” Louis jogs over to him. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d keep you company.”

“How was the movie?”

“It was okay. Not the best film ever, but still good. I wish you could’ve come.”

“Me, too.”

“So, uh… anyway, Niall came up to me at school the other day and invited me to a party this Saturday. You in?”

“Yeah. He invited me, too; I think I can go.”

“Nice. I’m super stoked – we haven’t gotten to hang out after school in a while, since we got grounded.”

“Mhm – Lottie, please don’t try and climb up there; you’ll fall,” Louis says.

“What a responsible parent,” Harry jokes.

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean it. You’re good at taking care of them.”

“Oh. Then, thank you again, but for real this time. And, one more thing: U2’s new album is coming out on the 9th, and I’d like you to listen to it with me for the first time. Will you join me?”

“Uh… yeah, of course, mate.”

“I’ll tell you more about it later, when I can confirm I’m allowed to do this, but I was thinking we could drive my car out by the lake and listen to it in the back of it.”

“That sounds really nice.”

“Cool.” Louis pauses, then smiles just a bit. “I missed you.”

“You wanker; we see each other, like, every day at school.”

“But that’s _school_. We don’t get to actually _talk_ there. And we certainly don’t get to listen to albums by the lake there.”

“Point taken.” Harry peers behind him. “I’d suggest we round up your sisters before they get too wild.”

“Agreed.”

The two of them walk towards the play structure.

* * *

March 6th, 1987

Harry walks into Niall’s lake house on Friday night looking for his best friend. It’s crowded and smells like alcohol in there, which is ordinary for this place. He bumps into Niall’s back when he turns around.

“Harry! Glad you could make it,” Niall says, slapping him on the back just a little too hard. “Where’s Louis?”

“I’m looking for him,” Harry replies.

“Well, I saw Liam, if you wanted to find him, too. Brownie?”

Harry's eyes widen, and he shakes his head furiously. “No, thanks.”

“Hey, more for me, I guess. You want anything else?”

“Are there any… soft drinks?”

“There’s Coca-Cola in the kitchen. Any unopened bottles should be soft.”

“Thanks, man.”

He finds a bottle of Coke in the kitchen and opens it up. Liam enters the kitchen.

“Liam! What’s up?” Harry asks.

“I’m trying to escape my teammates,” Liam responds.

Harry frowns. “You never want to hang out with them, huh?”

He shakes his head.

“How come?”

“Um…” He lowers his voice. “The team captain – Matt – found out a while ago that…” Liam’s voice has reached a whisper. “I’m bisexual.”

Harry gasps softly. “Like David Bowie?”

“Yeah. Also, the guys tend to talk about sex a lot, and it makes me kind of uncomfortable.” He blushes. “I know, it’s weird.”

“Wait, wait – so you’ve, like, dated guys before?” Harry says in a hushed tone.

“No.”

“Then how can you be bisexual?”

“Just ‘cause I haven’t dated any guys doesn’t mean I’m not bisexual.”

“I guess that’s true.”

Wow. Here Harry was thinking he was the only non-straight kid in this whole town, and now it turns out Liam’s bisexual. Harry wants to ask him so many questions, but he also doesn’t want to be invasive.

He's about to ask Liam how Matt found out when Louis appears.

“Louis! Hey, man!” Liam says. They clap each other on the back and say hello. Then, Harry and Louis hug.

The three of them begin to talk. The whole time, Harry can’t help but look at Liam differently. He and Liam have something in common that neither of them knows about. Harry wants to tell him, but he's never told anyone he's gay before, and he wants Louis to be the first person he tells.

Near the end of the party, when Harry and Louis are going to leave, Harry approaches Liam.

“Hey, Liam, I just wanted to let you know that you’re always welcome to hang out with Louis and I,” he tells him. “I don’t care – and he doesn’t care – about your sexuality or anything; you’re still our friend. Those guys are assholes for treating you differently just ‘cause of who you are.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Liam replies, and the look on his face lets Harry know he’s really grateful.

“Also, do you… want me to keep it a secret? Or can I tell Louis?”

“You can tell Louis, if you want to, ‘cause I know you tell him everything. But, other than him, I’d prefer if you kept it a secret.”

“You got it.” Harry smiles at him.

When Harry meets Louis outside to say goodnight before they each go home, he says, “You know… I found out today why Liam never wants to hang out with his teammates.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. Turns out the captain found out he’s bisexual, and the whole team gives him crap for it.”

When Harry says that Liam is bisexual, a look crosses Louis’ face, and Harry can’t quite detect what emotion it is. He ignores it.

“I told him he could always hang out with us, and we wouldn’t discriminate,” Harry continues.

“Definitely.”

“Cool. Well, I’ll most likely see you over the rest of the weekend, but until then…”

Harry hugs him, and Louis hugs him back. Then, they go their separate ways.

* * *

March 9th, 1987

“How lucky is it that we don’t have school tomorrow?” Harry asks, laying a sleeping bag down in the truck bed of Louis' car. “We can stay out here as late as we want to and listen to the album.”

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” Louis agrees.

It’s getting chilly out, but it’s very peaceful out there by the lake. The sun is setting, and they’re parked on the shore by the water, so Louis can hear the gentle lull of the lake water moving.

When their sleeping bags are set up in the trunk, Louis hops into the front seat of the car and turns on the heater. Then, he holds up the cassette containing U2’s newest album, _The Joshua Tree_.

“You sure you’re prepared?” he asks.

Harry nods his head eagerly. “Do it.”

Louis puts the cassette into the car and waits eagerly for the first song to play. Louis hears the song begin to fade in. It’s dreamlike. The guitar comes in, and when the bass and drums join in, he lets out a long sigh. The song’s barely even begun, and he loves it already. Bono’s voice soon jumps into the mix, and Louis closes his eyes. This feeling is absolutely incredible.

The first song, “Where the Streets Have No Name,” ends. Louis is anxiously anticipating the second song, though he fears it might not be as good as the amazing standards the first song’s set for it.

He turns out to be very wrong – song number two is even better than its predecessor. It retains the ethereal, far-away quality of “Where the Streets Have No Name,” and the lyrics are beautiful. Louis would expect nothing less from U2.

At one point during the second song, “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”, he grabs Harry’s hand and holds it. He wants to remind himself that Harry’s here, experiencing this with him. Also, Louis is getting a little teary-eyed, and he needs to direct Harry's attention away from him face. (Louis knows he’s staring at him to see how he likes the album so far.)

They proceed. Every song on the album is just as good – if not better – than the last.

When the album is over, Louis inhales and exhales deeply. “That was… that was amazing. Wow. What an experience! Can we listen again?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course!”

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Thank you. And, uh, thank you for… sharing this experience with me. It was nice, having someone else to listen to albums with – it makes me feel less like a loser. Did you have a favorite song?”

“I liked the one that was your favorite… uh, ‘I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For’.”

“Yeah. That one is just fantastic; imagine writing that song! Imagine being able to say you’ve written something like that! I’d shit myself.”

Harry laughs. “Okay, then, what are you waiting for?! Rewind the tape!”

Louis does as he says, and they listen to the album all over again. Now that Louis has heard the songs once, he's able to critique the content this time around and tell Harry what he thinks. Once the album finishes (for the second time), they decide to go into the truck bed. Louis brought his boombox, and he plays the album softly (again) while they talk.

“It’s too fucking cold for this,” Louis comments, snuggling down into his sleeping bag. He pulls his extra blankets over himself. “Why couldn’t U2’s album come out in _June_? The weather’s lovely at night in June.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “ _You’re_ the one who wanted to sleep out by the water. It’s naturally colder by a body of water.”

“Ugh.” Louis turns and looks up at the stars. “D’you know any constellations?”

“I know where the Big Dipper is, but that’s about it. I don’t even know where the Little Dipper is.”

Louis laughs. “I don’t know any constellations, either. It’s a shame; we can see the stars so well from here! You can even see the Milky Way.” The outline of the galaxy faintly streaks across the sky. He's never seen anything like it before, and he thinks about how he'd like to go stargazing with Harry more often.

“I guess we’ll just have to make our own constellations, then.” Harry looks up. “Those stars look like a heart, don’t they?”

“I don’t see it.”

“Here.” He gently takes Louis' hand, and Louis points his index finger outward. Harry moves his finger in the shape of the heart.

“ _Oh_! I see it now.”

“Mhm. D’you see any?”

“Um… I don’t think I’m creative enough for this,” he chuckles. “Those look a bit like a bird, I think. Like a bird sitting on a branch.”

“Yeah, they do! And, those look like a fish. And, there’s a turtle.”

“I think the stars like animals.”

“I think so, too.”

“What d’you suppose the moon likes?” Louis asks.

“The moon… the moon likes the sun and the stars. And the lake, and the ocean, and rivers.”

“The moon likes water?”

“Well, I mean, think about it! The moon hasn’t got any water – it probably wants some. That’s why it pulls the tide along. And the moon likes the sun and stars ‘cause they’re what makes the moon glow.”

“I like your logic.”

They stare up at the sky for a bit.

“What do you think the words to ‘I Am the Walrus’ mean? The Beatles song?” Harry asks. “I know it’s random, but I always think about it, and I thought you might know.”

“They don’t mean anything,” Louis replies.

“What?”

“John Lennon got fed up with people analysing Beatles lyrics, so he threw together the most random jumble of lyrics he could possibly think of in order to confuse the people analysing their work. So, the answer is: the lyrics don’t mean anything.”

“Interesting.”

“Very much so.”

After a brief silence, Harry ponders, “I wonder what it’d be like to be a star.”

“What _are_ you talking about?” Louis asks. “You know, you really do talk some shit sometimes, Harry.”

He laughs. “I just wanted to know!”

“No one knows, mate, ‘cause stars aren’t alive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I think _science_ knows that, though.”

“You always spoil my fun.” He pouts.

“I do _not_! In fact, I think you’d have a lot less fun without me. Who decided to bring you out here with him? Me. Who took you to concerts and ice skating? Me. Who wrote songs for you to think of music videos for? You got it – _me_.”

That shuts him up. He doesn’t look offended, but Louis wants to make sure he’s not hurt.

“You’re very fun, too, though; rest assured. You thought of the night at the diner in February, and you take me to see films with you. And, without you, there’d be no music videos for any of my songs.”

Harry smiles.

Another period of silence leads to Louis saying, “You can ask me any more questions you’d like to, y’know.”

Harry clears his throat nervously, and Louis can tell he’s going to ask something uncomfortable. He braces himself. “How, uh… how well did Chad know you? When you were friends?”

“Um… well, he knew about the bastard child thing,” Louis replies hesitantly.

“Hey, I thought we talked about this!” Harry interjects. “You’re _not_ a bastard.”

“Whatever. You know what I’m talking about. And, uh…” Louis ponders telling Harry he's gay – something Chad _definitely_ doesn’t know – but, for whatever reason, it doesn’t feel like the right time. (Even though now’s probably a perfect time, since no one’s around.) “He also knew I write my own songs, though I didn’t ever sing any to him. Besides, you don’t need to worry about him. You’re a better friend to me than he could ever be.”

“Thanks. I’m glad you feel that way.”

They smile at each other.

Louis and Harry decide to go to sleep after another hour or so has come and gone. Louis pulls his blankets up to his chin and says goodnight, and he slowly drifts off.

* * *

April 14th, 1987

March came and went surprisingly fast. Spring holiday came about midway through the month, though Harry and Louis stayed home on their days off. Fleetwood Mac’s newest album, _Tango In the Night_ , came out yesterday, and Harry and Louis have been listening to it. Harry likes Fleetwood Mac a lot – they’re probably one of the best bands that Louis has made him listen to.

Today, Harry's accompanying Louis in doing the grocery shopping for his family.

They walk down the aisles together, side by side, pushing the trolley.

“Hey, what are Goldfish?” Harry asks, looking at a shelf of boxes.

Louis abruptly stops pushing the trolley, and Harry's stomach slams into the handle.

“What d’you _mean,_ ‘What are Goldfish’?! Do you mean to tell me you’ve lived in the States for over a year and a half and you still haven’t had _Goldfish_?!”

“No…”

And, so, what began as a grocery run has now turned into a game of “Which American Snacks Has Harry Not Tried Yet?”

They scour the whole store, and Louis asks him if he's tried different snacks. They wind up buying Goldfish, Twinkies, Oreos, Peeps, assorted candies, and ingredients to make s’mores.

“Are you sure your parents are going to be okay with us buying all of this?”

“Of course! So long as we don’t let the little girls get their hands on it.”

They check out and go back to Louis’ house. He sneaks the food up to his room, and they begin trying things.

“Goldfish are a bit odd, aren’t they?” Harry asks, popping another one into his mouth. “But they’re quite good.”

“Yeah. Have you tried an Oreo yet?”

“Yes; I liked those. Can you hand me a Peep?”

“Mhm.” Louis gives him a little sugar-covered marshmallow bird. “I’m not entirely fond of those, myself, but you’ve got a sweet tooth, so I figured you might like them. And they only sell them around Easter.”

Harry takes a bite. “It’s… wow, it’s _really_ sweet… fairly good, though.”

“I think you’ve tried everything except s’mores, but we’ll save those for another time. I assume you’ve had enough snacks for now.”

Harry nods, his mouth full of marshmallow and colored sugar. His cheeks are puffed up from the Peep, and it makes Louis chuckle to himself.

When they've put all the snacks away in the pantry downstairs, Louis asks him if he’d like to listen to _Tango In the Night_ again.

“You act like we didn’t just listen to it a million times yesterday,” Harry responds. “But, uh… sure, I don’t mind.”

Louis puts the tape into his cassette player.

* * *

April 25th, 1987

Louis doesn’t know how he managed to do it, but he got Harry to come to this drive-in movie with him. They’re showing _Labyrinth_ , which they saw last summer, but Harry really wanted to see it again. Louis doesn’t mind ‘cause David Bowie’s in it.

The whole time, he and Harry sing along to the songs they've listened to for the past several months, since Louis bought the record copy of the soundtrack. It’s a nice night, and the moon is out. They goof off in the front seat of the car, throwing snacks at each other and sharing bottles of Coca-Cola.

At the end of the movie, many people stay at the drive-in, talking with their friends and partners. Louis and Harry lock Louis' car and begin walking around down the street. Louis walks backwards with his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket, and Harry power-walks after him, trying to keep up with his pace.

“…You remind me of the babe,” Harry says as they go.

“What babe?” Louis questions with a smirk. He's trying to ignore the butterflies flying around in his stomach because of the way Harry says “babe”.

“The babe with the power!” he responds happily.

“What power?”

“The power of _voodoo!_ ”

“Who do?”

“You do!”

“Do what?”

Harry laughs again. He’s absolutely ecstatic right now, and Louis hopes he stays this way forever and ever. Happiness looks gorgeous on him.

“ _Remind me of the babe!_ ” he finishes. “Louis, do we even know where we’re going? You’re walking backwards, and I feel like you haven’t got a clue where we’re about to go.”

“Right you are, Harry. I know the address of the drive-in, though, so we’re good.”

He continues sauntering backwards down into a slightly darker side street.

“ _Dance, magic, dance / Dance magic, dance / Put that baby spell on me_ …” Harry sings softly. Louis can tell he wants to keep singing but feels self-conscious about it, so Louis sings along.

“ _Jump, magic, jump_!” the two of them belt out together. “ _Jump, magic, jump / Put that magic jump on m—_ ”

Somehow, Louis led them into a small, dark neighborhood, and his singing’s been interrupted by him backing into a large guy. When he turns around, he sees that it’s a boy around his age. And he’s with… oh, dear. This is _not_ good. Of course, it’s fucking _Chad_ and a few of his buddies who’ve come out here to have a smoke.

“Well, if it isn’t little English and his faggot friend!” Chad says. He looks smug and pleased. Harry’s expression has tensed, and Louis wants to punch Chad in the gut just for ruining Harry’s pleasant mood.

“Please, don’t start anything right now,” Harry mumbles so that only Louis can hear. “I just want to go home.”

Louis sighs. His temper usually gets the best of him, but he can’t resist listening to Harry.

“What did he say to you?” Chad asks Louis.

“He said he doesn’t want to fight tonight. And I don’t want to, either.”

Harry looks very, very uneasy, and Louis wants to get him out of there. Louis thinks he may have been getting a bit anxious while they were wandering around town at night, and now Harry seems like he might tip over the edge with even the slightest provocation.

Louis puts a hand on his best friend’s shoulder and says, “Let’s get out of here, okay?”

This earns a nod from Harry.

They turn around and begin walking away, though Louis hears heavy footsteps behind them.

Then, Chad says something that leaves Louis feeling like he's going to vomit up his own heart: “I bet your parents would _love_ to hear that their bastard kid is a coward, too.”

Before Louis can react, Harry does the complete opposite of what Louis would  _ever_ expect him to do: He lets out a loud, strangled yell and decks Chad in the jaw so hard that Chad falls to the ground.

Everyone is shocked, but Harry keeps going. There’s a flurry of fists. Louis shouts at Harry to stop, but he’s in a rage. He gets on top of Chad and swings punch after punch at him, not even bothering to aim for his face and hitting his shoulders and chest as well.

“Why do you always have to be such a bloody _asshole_?!” Harry screams, his voice saturated with pure, unadulterated fury. “And you have the _audacity_ to say something like that to him when you _know_ how he feels about it! Fuck you, Chad! _FUCK YOU_!”

“Harry, enough!” Louis shouts back. He and Chad’s goons are all trying to get them apart. Louis has  _never_ seen Harry anywhere _close_ to being this angry.

At long last, he pulls Harry off of his ex-friend. Harry’s fists are completely battered and bruised, and Louis can barely even look at the damage he’s done to Chad. Harry’s got a few bruises and cuts here and there, too – his bottom lip has a big gash, and there’s another large cut above his eyebrow – but Chad has clearly received the brunt of the fight.

“Don’t you _ever_ come near _any_ of my friends again, you fucking prick, or I’ll beat the shit out of you again!” Harry yells. His voice is hoarse.

Eventually, Louis leads his best friend back to the drive-in, and they get into his car. Harry’s breathing heavily, and he’s not speaking, so Louis decides to let him calm down before he says anything about what just happened. Harry leans his head on the dashboard and covers his face with his hands. Louis can’t imagine what emotions are going through his head right now.

“I’m going to take you back to my place and clean you up, okay?” Louis says.

Harry nods.

For the first time in a very long time, they make it through the car ride in complete silence. Louis doesn’t even try to turn on the radio.

When they reach his house, he gets Harry quietly into the bathroom. Harry showers, and when he’s done, Louis makes him go into his room. Louis heads to the bathroom to grab bandages, ointment, a wet cloth, and some painkillers, then returns to his room.

As he dabs the wet cloth onto the wound by Harry's eyebrow, which leads to Harry flinching at the touch, Louis asks, “Are you gonna tell me what that was about? I’ve… I’ve _never_ seen you that angry.”

For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, Harry speaks to him. “I don’t know what got into me. I was – ouch, that stings, Lou – I was very anxious after I saw them, and when Chad said that to you… I couldn’t deal with him anymore. He deserved it. That was the most uncalled-for comment, and I wasn’t about to let my best friend take shit from a bully.” He huffs. “I _hate_ bullies.”

“Well, uh…” Louis finishes putting ointment on Harry's face, and he puts a bandage over the cut he's been tending to. Then, he begins working on Harry's lip. “You might not be expecting me to say this, but thank you.”

“’Thank you’?!”

“Yes, and I mean it. That’s the bravest, stupidest, most insane thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Harry smiles a little bit.

Louis clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Your hands are going to ache for days, silly boy. And I can’t believe you let him mess up your pretty face.”

He thinks Harry's blushing, but he can’t tell.

“I’m serious, man – I bet his face looks _better_ now that you messed with it, but yours? Yours is bloody awful. And prom is a week from today!”

Harry groans. “I don’t think I can go like this.”

He shakes his head. “You _have_ to go. Do it for me. Do it just to show Chad you’re stronger than he is.”

Harry sighs. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Louis finishes wrapping his hands in bandages and cleaning up his face. Harry takes a few painkillers, too.

“Do you want to sleep over?” Louis asks. “I bet your parents figured you were going to stay over after the film, anyway.”

Harry nods.

Louis lends him pajamas, and they turn away from each other so Harry can change.

It never gets easier, having sleepovers with Harry. It makes Louis want him so, _so_ badly, and he feels bad for giving in to his romantic feelings while Harry's in his current state. But, he can’t help thinking of something better they could be doing instead of just lying there.

When Louis has turned the lights out, Harry moves a bit closer to him under the covers, which freaks him out a little.

“I don’t regret it,” Harry says softly. “I don’t regret anything that happened tonight.”

That’s the last thing he says before he drifts off, and Louis hears his quiet snores.

* * *

May 2nd, 1987

“Come on downstairs!” Louis calls out. His voice carries up to where Harry is standing in his room. He's staring at himself in the mirror. He's got on a plain gray tuxedo and a black bow tie. His hair is styled nicely, and he just took a shower about an hour ago, so he feels very clean.

However, the scrapes and bruises on his face are still there. His mum tried to cover them up, but they’re still very prominent, and it’s making Harry self-conscious. He really doesn’t want to go to prom looking like this.

“I… I don’t think I want to go anymore!” he answers. “It’s, uh… I really don’t look good.”

“You can’t back out now!” he hears Louis say. “I bet you look fine!”

He sighs heavily and trudges down the stairs. He might be wearing fancy clothes and cologne and everything, but he sure doesn’t feel pretty.

Louis looks gorgeous. Like, even _more_ than usual. His suit is navy blue, and he’s got a big smile on his face. Harry looks like a street urchin next to him.

“Look how handsome you look!” Louis says when Harry joins him at the bottom of the stairs.

Harry frowns. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not! I promise, it’s not as bad as you think it is. If anyone asks you about it, you can just say ‘You should see the other guy.’”

The corner of Harry's mouth twitches upward, if only for a moment. “Thanks.”

“I bet Chad won’t even _be_ there, since you fucked up his face so badly. I’m pretty sure you, like, broke his nose or something – he hasn’t come near me at all since last week.”

Harry looks down at his battered knuckles and bruised hands. “Well, his face fucked up my hands, so I think we’re even.”

Louis smiles.

“Oh, would just look at the two of you!” Harry's mum exclaims happily as she enters the room. “You’ll be the best-looking ones there.”

Harry blushes. “Just take the pictures, Mum.”

“Okay, say ‘cheese’!”

He hugs Louis’ waist, and Louis wraps his arm around Harry's shoulders. They smile.

After Harry's mum forces them to go outside and take a million more photos (all of which Harry's reluctant to be in), they get into Louis’ car together.

“I was serious earlier,” Louis says as he starts up the car. “You look very handsome.”

“Thank you. You, too.” Harry's insides feel all warm and fuzzy following Louis' compliment.

“If anyone tries to give you shit about it, I’ll beat them up for you. You might have bruised knuckles already, but I sure don’t.”

Harry manages an empty laugh. “That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugs. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

Harry laughs again, this time for real. “You act like I haven’t _already_ done the same for you.”

When they reach the prom venue, Harry looks around in awe. Everyone is dressed up so nicely, and the venue is quite fancy. Inside, pop music plays through large speakers. There are all kinds of people dancing, wearing suits and gowns. A photo booth is situated in one corner, and a snack bar’s in the other corner.

“The Look Of Love, Pt. 1” by ABC (as he's been informed by Louis) begins to play over the sound system.

“Wanna dance?” Louis asks.

Harry sighs. Sarcastically, he replies, “How can I refuse?”

“Oh, come on!”

Louis tugs on his hand, and they step onto the dance floor.

The night progresses quickly. Everyone around them (and, admittedly, Harry and Louis as well) progressively becomes a bit more tipsy, and people slowly trickle out of the dance.

The dance floor is still crowded when the DJ plays a slower song. Surprisingly, Harry knows what it is.

“This song is from _Footloose_ ,” he says when he and Louis sit down at a table.

“Yep. ‘Waiting For a Girl Like You.’”

“It’s by Foreigner, isn’t it?”

“Correct again, my friend.” Louis sighs. “I wish I could dance with some lovely young, uh, lady at a school dance.”

“Me, too.”

Harry's mood lowers as he watches the couples on the dance floor. He thinks Louis picks up on what he's feeling, because Louis says, “Why don’t we go to that photo booth now?”

“I’d like that.”

When they get to the booth, the cameraman lets them decide how they’d like to take their pictures. They decide on one very serious picture, where Harry puts his hands on Louis' waist like how couples do in prom photos, and one where they make faces at the camera. He and Louis each get copies of their pictures, and Harry's pleased with how they turn out.

After a few hours of being at the dance, he accompanies Louis outside so they can have a smoke together.

“This has been fun,” Harry says before taking a drag.

“Yeah! See, didn’t I tell you it’d be fun?”

He sighs. “Yes, you did.”

When Harry looks up, he sees Liam lingering not too far from them.

“Hey, Liam!”

Liam looks up and smiles when he sees them, then jogs over.

“Hey, guys,” he says. He turns his attention to Louis. “Can I use your lighter?”

Louis hands him the lighter, and Liam lights up a cigarette of his own.

The three of them smoke and chat for a while. They’re laughing and joking around when their heads all turn to someone walking towards the entrance of the prom venue.

It’s Chad. And his face is _fucked up_ , man.

Louis snickers and tries in vain to bite back a smile.

“What?” Harry asks him.

“I just mean – _you_ did that to him. Scrawny, clumsy little you! He’s gotta be so embarrassed; oh, my God.”

Harry holds his shoulders back and stands up a bit straighter. “I guess I did, huh? Well, it’ll teach him not to mess with us. I bet he won’t even come over here.”

He turns out to be correct. Chad ignores them completely and walks into prom without so much as a sneer in their direction.

“Wait, Harry, _you_ did that to Chad?!” Liam asks, astonished. Harry guesses word hasn’t really gotten out yet about it.

“Um… yes?” he shrugs.

“So _that’s_ why your face looked a little beaten. Gosh, what did he do to make you do that?!”

Harry clears his throat uncomfortably. “He said something offensive to Louis.”

“…Do you guys want to take pictures in the photo booth together?” Liam asks sheepishly.

“Yeah, let’s go!”

The three of them put out their cigarettes and head inside. They run into a more-than-tipsy Niall on the way over to the photo booth, and he asks to join in. The four of them go over and take pictures together.

As the night comes to an end, they disperse and all head home. Niall is, of course, having an afterparty at his lake house, but Harry and Louis weren’t allowed to go. (They got in trouble for starting the fight with Chad.) Instead, the two of them go back to their separate places. Louis drives Harry home.

“You have fun?” Louis asks on the ride back.

“Mhm. I’m glad I went, actually. It was a good time.”

“Good. Here’s your stop.” The car comes to a halt in front of Harry's house. “G’nite, Harry.”

“G’nite, Lou.”

He waves and gets out of the car, walking towards his house.

* * *

May 11th, 1987

Louis gets up from their lunch table, saying he’ll be back from the loo in a minute. Harry gazes after him, resting his chin on his fist, and soon drifts off into daydreams about he and Louis. They’ll get to spend the whole summer together once school ends in a few weeks, and Harry will get to see him shirtless or with a cropped shirt on all the time… they’ll probably go swimming, too, and look at the stars or something together…

“Harry?” Liam waves a hand in front of his face. Harry snaps out of his trance.

“Huh?”

“Oh, you just looked like you were zoning out. You know, you’ve looked all dreamy pretty often lately…” He gasps. “Do you have a _crush_ on someone?!”

Harry shakes his head vigorously, but he can feel blood rushing to his cheeks, giving him away.

“Dude, you _totally_ have a crush on someone! Tell me about her!”

 _Her._ The word feels wrong.

“Uh… she’s really cute? Small… brown hair…”

“What’s her name?”

“Um… er…” Harry stalls frantically, trying to think of a name. “Lacey!”

“Lacey? I don’t know if I know a Lacey.”

“She doesn’t go to our school,” Harry blurts out. “I met her at one of Niall’s parties.” _Wow, I never knew I was such a good liar!_

“That’s cool. What school does she go to?”

 _Shit._ He spoke too soon; he doesn’t know the names of any other high schools near theirs. “I didn’t catch the name of her school.”

“Hm. So, like… what’s she like?”

“She likes films, too. And, she listens to disco a lot.”

Harry sees Louis coming back from the toilet and decides to change the subject. “Hey, do you have any of the answers yet for the study guide we got yesterday in Chem? I want to see if I’m doing the work right.”

“Hang on a sec; I’ve gotta find my notes.”

Liam digs through his backpack as Louis retakes his seat next to Harry. Harry feels nauseous – Louis  _can’t_ find out that he told Liam about a crush. Louis would be hurt that he didn’t tell him first, and he’d want to know even more about her, which Harry doesn’t think he can manage to lie about.

He guesses this’ll just have to be his little secret, then, huh?

* * *

May 29th, 1987

It’s Friday. Louis wakes up at 1:00PM to feel warm sunlight streaming through his window. He feels more well-rested than he has in months.

He suddenly jolts awake. Why is he not at school?!

Then, he looks at his calendar and realizes what day it is. _Oh._ Today happens to be the first day of his summer holiday.

Excitedly, he grabs a mixtape he's made from off of his desk. He checks to make sure it’s the right one, then gets dressed and gets into his car to go to Harry’s house.

“Hey! I’ve been waiting for you to come over,” Harry greets him excitedly when Louis arrives. “Did you just get up?”

“Pretty much.”

“Would you like breakfast? I mean, it’s not actually breakfast time, but you know what I mean.”

“That’d be nice.”

“Are eggs and toast alright?”

“Totally.”

They walk into Harry’s kitchen together, and Louis sits at the table while Harry turns on the stove and gets eggs from the fridge.

“So… I come bearing gifts,” Louis says with a grin.

“What kind of gifts?”

“One gift, actually. I made us a mixtape.”

Harry raises his eyebrows at him.

Louis holds up the cassette. “I have a copy at my house, too. It’s a mixtape of songs I’ve put together for us to listen to this summer. That way, 20 years from now, we’ll hear these songs on the radio or something and think, ‘Wow. I remember when we listened to this song back in ’87. That was the best summer ever.’”

“Sounds like a plan. What songs are on it?”

Louis grabs his hands and puts the tape into them. “I guess you’ll have to listen and find out.”

They make eye contact for a few moments. Louis then realizes he's still holding Harry's hands, and he lets go. He's tempted to kiss Harry while he has the chance to, but he's stopped by Harry turning around to tend to the eggs on the stove.

“Can you put the tape in right now?” Harry asks. “We can listen while I cook.”

Louis does as he's told. Harry gets a piece of paper so that he can write down all the songs as they play. (What a dweeb.)

The first song begins. (It’s “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” by Tears for Fears.)

“Louis, did I tell you I got the job I applied for?” Harry questions.

“No, you didn’t! The one at the bakery, right?”

“Nah. The one at the cinema. But it works out, ‘cause I get free movie tickets and discounts on snacks now.”

“Awesome!”

“I’m pretty excited. Their hours are flexible, so it won’t cut into Harry And Louis’ Best Summer Ever.”

“Good to know.”

Louis' eggs finish cooking, and Harry hands him the plate before popping a piece of bread into the toaster.

“Thank you,” Louis says. “Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

“No; I just had lunch.”

“Ah.” He begins eating his eggs. “These are so good – I should make you cook for me more often.”

“Only if you pay me.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

They both have smug smiles on their faces, and it makes him wonder if this is flirting. Is it? He doesn’t think so…

Harry puts his toast onto a plate once it’s finished, and Louis thanks him.

* * *

June 6th, 1987

It’s an absolutely gorgeous day outside, though slightly hotter than Harry would like. He and Louis have driven out to a local strawberry patch to pick strawberries together.

“What are we going to do with them when we’re done?” Louis asks.

“We could make strawberry shortcake, or chocolate-covered strawberries. Or strawberry pie. Is strawberry pie a thing?”

Louis chuckles.

“What’re you laughing at?”

“I like the way you say ‘strawberry’. You leave out a whole syllable.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do! You say it like ‘strawb’ry’.”

“We have the same accent, Louis. We say it the same way.”

“We _definitely_ do _not_ have the same accent. I say ‘strawberry’, and you say ‘strawb’ry’.”

“Shut up.” Harry picks a large, bright red berry off of one of the bushes. He hears Louis humming softly.

“ _Let me take you down, ‘cause I’m going to strawberry fields / Nothing is real / And nothing to get hung about / Strawberry fields forever…_ ”

“Wait. I think I know that song,” Harry says.

“Yeah?”

“That’s by The Beatles, isn’t it?”

“Correct.”

Louis pops a strawberry into his mouth.

“Louis! Don’t eat them before we get home. Besides, you don’t want to eat it if it hasn’t been washed yet.”

“If I die, it’ll be worth it. That was a fucking good strawberry.”

Harry huffs.

Louis holds a berry up in front of Harry's face. “C’mon, mate, try one!”

Harry reluctantly takes the fruit from him and takes a bite. “…God, these really are good.”

“Told you so.”

They wander through the fields of strawberry bushes, eating a bit more than they’re picking. The sun is bearing down on them, but the warmth is comforting.

“Are you going on holiday at all this summer?” Harry asks.

“No; I never do. You?”

“Nope.” He makes a disgusted noise. “I guess I’m stuck with _you_ for two months.”

Louis smiles. Harry could swear that Louis' teeth _sparkle_ , like he’s in a toothpaste advert or something. “What a shame.”

At the end of the day, as the afternoon is slowly fading into evening, they gather up their berries into one container. A layer of orange and pink light washes over everything.

They go back to Louis’ house, and his little sisters help them coat the berries in chocolate. Harry takes some home to give to his parents, too. Louis takes him home.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Louis asks as Harry walks towards his front door.

“Hopefully.”

“See ya!”

Louis waves and drives off.

* * *

June 21st, 1987

“You know, Harry,” Louis says as he puts his life vest on, “today’s the first day of summer.”

“I actually did know that.”

“They say the summer solstice is supposed to be a magical night when anything can happen.”

Harry scoffs. “Who’s ‘they’?”

“I dunno. I read it once – okay, push!”

They push their kayak into the water and get inside of it.

“You’d better actually steer us from back there, or I’m gonna be pissed,” Harry warns.

“Why _wouldn’t_ I?”

“’Cause you’re quite lazy.”

“Not true!”

Louis can’t see his face from his seat in the back, but he's pretty sure Harry’s rolling his eyes at him.

“Anyway… what kind of magical things are supposed to happen on the summer solstice?” Harry questions.

“Not sure. Maybe magical fairies who grant wishes appear. Maybe if you have a crush on someone, they finally like you back, or summat. Speaking of crushes… a while ago, Liam was telling me about this girl you said you liked. He assumed you’d already told me about her, and I was a little offended that you hadn’t. I thought we told each other everything.”

“A little” might be an understatement. Why wouldn’t Louis' best friend tell him about someone he likes? Of course, it might be painful for Louis, but Harry doesn’t know that, and Louis would still be happy for him.

“I, uh… I dunno. It seemed, uh, not that important? I think?” Harry replies, his answer unconvincing. “Around the time I told him, I didn’t really like her all that much yet.”

“And you do now?”

“I suppose?”

“Well, tell me about her now!”

“Her name is La… Lacey. I met her at one of Niall’s parties, and she doesn’t go to our school. And she likes films and listens to… new wave? No, not new wave. Not psychedelic rock, either… disco! She listens to disco.”

“Interesting.”

“She’s really not a big deal, though. Liam pushed it out of me, but I don’t actually like her that much.”

“I thought you said you liked her more now.”

“Uh… I lied.” Harry sighs and stops paddling the kayak, so Louis stops, too. “The truth is, I don’t know why I didn’t tell you earlier. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, or want to talk about these things with you, because I really do – I promise. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings by not telling you. But, I really don’t have that big of a crush on her.”

His apology seems heartfelt enough. “I mean, I’m kinda hurt, but I get it. It wasn’t that big of a deal, and it slipped your mind.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I forgive you.”

Harry sighs, relieved, and starts paddling again. “Thank God. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you.”

Louis smiles. “You’d be stranded out here in the middle of the lake, lonely and tired, with no one to talk to or recommend you amazing music.”

He nods. “That about sums it up.”

“Oi, have you listened to my mixtape without me at all yet?” Louis asks, attempting to lighten the conversation. “Have you found out what all the songs are?”

“I have, actually. Dunno who some of them are by, though. I wrote ‘em all down on a paper at my house.”

“D’you have a favorite?”

“I like the one about Jack & Diane. And ‘Come On Eileen,’ and the one song about a teenage wasteland.”

“You mean ‘Baba O’Riley’.”

“Yeah. If that’s the one about teenage wasteland.”

“It is.”

“Yes, well, I liked that one.”

Louis grins and splashes some lake water onto Harry.

“Hey!” he complains. He tries to splash back, but he’s unsuccessful. “You’re so bloody annoying.”

Louis shrugs and keeps paddling, though he knows Harry can’t see him shrug.

When they get back to the shore of the lake, they go for a swim. They’re out there until it begins to get dark, and, as the sun sets, they sit on the sand and talk.

“Y’know, this summer has gone by pretty fast,” Louis points out. “Think about it – we’re already almost a month in. What have we done so far?”

“Hm… we’ve gone strawberry picking, swimming, listened to your mixtape, and baked cookies that one time. Now we’ve gone kayaking, too. And we made a video for that song of yours – ‘Kiss You’.”

“Mhm.” Louis thinks about the songs he hasn’t yet played for Harry, particularly the emotional one, “Something Great”. He decides he’d like to share it with him now. “Let me get my guitar from the car; I’ve got a song to share with you.”

He gets up, jogs up to the truck bed, grabs his guitar, and returns to Harry.

“You bring that thing everywhere,” Harry observes while Louis tunes.

“Pretty much. I never know when I’m gonna need it. Anyway, this song’s called ‘Something Great,’ and I wrote it a while ago.”

His fingers shake as he plays. It’s too late to change his mind, but he fears Harry might figure out who it’s about.

“ _One day you’ll come into my world and say it all / You’ll say we’ll be together even when you’re lost / One day you’ll say these words I’ve thought but never said / You’ll say we’re better off together in our bed_.”

It takes all of Louis' willpower not to tear up as he sings about wanting Harry “here with him, like how he's pictured it, so he doesn’t have to keep imagining”.

When he finishes, he sighs heavily and puts the instrument down.

“…Who’s that about?” Harry asks, his voice slightly strained.

“No one.”

“You can’t have written a song like that and not have it be about anyone. Tell me who it is.”

“Harry, I told you, it isn’t about anyone. I made up the story for the song.”

“…I don’t believe you.”

“Weren’t we just talking about trust? I trusted you when you said you had a good reason for not telling me about Lacey. Why can’t you trust that I’m telling you the truth?”

Louis sees guilt creep into Harry’s expression. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Lou.”

“I have an idea," Louis suggests. "Why don’t we make a promise for two things: a) We’re not ever going to keep any secrets from each other anymore; and b) By following Rule A, we are going to truly make this the best summer of our lives. It’s our last summer as high schoolers, and I think there’s a lot we can do in the six-or-so weeks we have left. So… are you in on the promise?”

Harry sticks his little finger out. Louis thinks it’s really cute that Harry still considers pinky promises valid contracts. “Totally.”

They link their pinkies together and hold tightly, sealing their promise. There’s no turning back now; Operation Best Summer Ever is officially underway.

* * *

July 4th, 1987

This summer has truly been a wild ride. It’s only been two weeks since Louis and Harry made their promise to make this the greatest summer of their lives, and he and Harry have already gone hiking, taken a day trip or two into the city, seen a film, and gone down to the lake again. They’re really trying to make the most of their time off.

Today’s America’s Independence Day, of course. Louis' mum fed him dinner earlier, then went with his stepdad to the block party she was invited to down the street. (The girls went with her.) His mum invited Harry’s parents, too, so Louis went over to Harry’s house to hang while everyone swims and barbecues.

The two of them are sitting on the grass in Harry's backyard, leaning against the side of the house. The air is thick and warm, but the sun has already set, so the heat isn’t unbearable. Fireflies are beginning to create glowing pinpoints in the dark, and the moon is high. They’re listening to Louis' summer mixtape and waiting for the fireworks show to start.

“Did you see the fireworks last year?” Louis asks. “I can’t remember why, but we weren’t together on the Fourth Of July last year, I don’t think.”

“I might’ve been sick. And, no, I didn’t see the fireworks; I wish I could’ve.”

“They’re alright, I guess. I can never sleep while they’re happening, though, so I usually just come out and watch them.”

Harry nods. Louis takes out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter.

“I’ll pass,” Harry says, knowing that Louis is about to ask if he wants one. “You know, you should really quit smoking. It’s terrible for you.”

Louis shrugs and lights the cigarette he's taken out, blowing smoke.

“I’m serious; your lungs will deteriorate, your voice will get rougher, and you’ll lose your lovely singing voice. Your career in music will be over. I’ll be devastated – who else will I make music videos for?”

Louis blushes when Harry says that his singing voice is lovely. Harry's words make him a bit nervous, and he snubs out the cigarette.

Harry smiles. “I’m just looking out for you, man.”

“I know you are. I appreciate it.”

Don Henley’s “The Boys of Summer” is playing from Louis' boombox. He sighs and leans back against the house.

“…Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I, er… can I tell you something really personal?”

Louis softens his voice. “Of course.”

“Okay. I’ve wanted to tell you this for a really long time – I think I’ve tried to tell you at least two or three times before? – but I don’t want it to hurt our friendship. And I don’t want it to make you think of me any differently.”

“There is absolutely _nothing_ I can think of that would affect our relationship if I found out.”

“But this, uh… this is a _really_ big thing. Like, _really_ personal. I don’t think you’d ever even guess what it is.”

In the dim light of the fading sunset, helped by the glow of the lights in Harry's backyard, Louis sees Harry’s eyes water. His hands are shaking.

“I’m—I’m stalling too long. You know what? I’m just going to go right ahead and say it, ‘cause every other time I’ve tried to tell you, I’ve either chickened out or been interrupted. No chickening out now.”

Louis puts a hand on his shoulder to try to comfort him. “I swear on my life: No matter what you say, I won’t judge you for it. That’s what friends are for, Harry.”

Harry wipes tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, then nods. Louis hears him inhale and exhale very slowly and carefully. They make eye contact, and Louis sees the sheer terror behind Harry's eyes. _What could_ possibly _be making him this freaked out?_ , he wonders.

Then, Harry Styles says three words that would, quite literally, change Louis' life forever:

“Louis… I’m gay.”

Louis' hand involuntarily shoots up to cover his mouth, which now hangs wide open. Almost inaudibly, as softly as Louis can muster, he asks, “Are you taking the fucking piss?!”

Harry hides his face in his hands. “No, I’m not, I swear. I’m… gay. Homosexual. I… I fancy boys, Louis.”

“Harry, I…”

Louis feels as though he can’t breathe. It’s like Harry’s prediction about his lungs deteriorating has happened right now, and he's completely choked up. How on fucking Earth is this _real_?! The boy he's been pining after for _two years_ is _gay_?! This must be a dream.

Louis pinches himself on the arm.

Harry sounds like he’s in another dimension when Louis hears him say, “Louis, are you alright? You look like you’re going to pass out.”

 _Is_ he going to pass out? Louis wouldn’t be surprised.

He tries to focus his vision and ends up zeroing in on Harry's lips. They’re pink as ever, and Louis begins to think. Just because Harry’s gay doesn’t mean he likes  _Louis_ , does it? But… if he’s gay… then he wouldn’t get scared off if Louis kissed him. _Should I…?_

 _Fuck it. Fuck everything. Fuck, fuck,_ fuck _._ What has Louis got to lose at this point?

In a moment of complete stupidity and spontaneity, he grabs the sides of Harry's face and plants the most passionate kiss he can possibly manage onto his lips. He doesn’t realize that their noses are going to get in the way, so they kind of mash together at first. Louis tilts his head to the side a bit to fix the situation.

The moment he kisses Harry also happens to be the moment that the fireworks start going off. (No, not between Louis and Harry; the _Fourth Of July_ fireworks. Though Louis can feel some sparks between the two of them, as well.)

Poor Harry, who he's completely thrown himself at, makes a _very_ surprised noise that’s muffled by, well, Louis'  _lips_. And then – as if tonight hasn’t already been shocking enough! – another unexpected event occurs: Harry kisses him back.

Let’s make one thing absolutely clear: Louis has no fucking clue how to properly kiss someone. This is his first kiss. He also knows for a fact that this is Harry’s first kiss. Neither of them has a shred of an idea what they’re doing, but Louis is positive that this is the single greatest moment of his entire life. He lets the reality of this sink in for a second. _Louis is_ _kissing Harry Styles._ There’s music playing, fireworks are going off, and _Louis is_ _kissing Harry Styles._ And _Harry is_ _kissing him back._ It’s like they're in one of Harry’s bloody John Hughes films! Louis' heart feels like it’s pounding at a million beats per minute.

When he finally manages to tear himself away from Harry, they stare at each other, wide-eyed. Louis can’t picture what’s going on in Harry’s mind – he can’t even tell what’s going on in his _own_ mind.

“What…?” Harry starts, but he never finishes.

“I can explain,” Louis replies quietly.

“Please do. But, uh… we probably shouldn’t be doing this out in the open.”

Louis nods.

They walk through Harry’s house and make their way upstairs to his room. He closes the door, and when he turns around to face Louis, he asks, “What the _fuck_ just happened?”

“I… I told you, I can explain.” Louis pats the edge of the bed next to where he's deposited himself. Harry takes a seat, and Louis continues. “I have a confession to make, Harry. I’m, um… I am also gay. Homosexual, if you will. Attracted to men.”

Now Harry’s the one who looks like he’s going to pass out.

“There’s only one thing I know for certain right now, and that’s that I have a big fat crush on you. So, the thing I want to know is: Do you like me, too?”

Harry looks like someone’s grabbed all of his words and yanked them away from his vocal cords, making him choke up, and leaving him at a loss as to what he should say.

“I’m completely in _love_ with you!” he blurts out all of a sudden. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two years, Louis! All I’ve ever wanted is for you to like me back!”

It feels like this is the thousandth time today that Louis' jaw has hit the floor. “I… I’ll admit, I’ve been in love with you for two years, too, Harry.”

Very, _very_ quietly, Louis hears him whisper, “Holy fucking shit.”

“That about sums it up.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes. It’s uncomfortably noiseless, and Louis can’t stand it. He runs his fingers through his hair so much that he fears it’s sticking all the way up now.

Eventually, Louis breaks the silence first. “So… what now?”

Harry shrugs. “I dunno. I’d really like to kiss you again, if you wouldn’t mind that.” His cheeks reach a more intense shade of pink with every word he says.

Louis grins so widely that his face begins to ache. “I’ve been waiting two years to hear you say something like that.”

His eyelids flutter shut, and he leans forward to press a kiss to Harry's lips. This kiss is much calmer and more sentimental than the one they shared minutes ago, and it feels a lot more like how a real kiss should be, though Louis didn’t know what a real kiss felt like until now.

Unfortunately, Louis has to ruin the mood by asking what the time is.

“Why?” Harry asks.

“My parents wanted me home by 10:00.”

He looks at his watch and grimaces. “It’s 9:54.”

“ _Shit!_ ” Louis springs up and runs down to the backyard to grab his belongings. When he re-enters the house, Harry is waiting by the front door.

Louis hastily kisses his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Or, I’ll call you. I’ll, uh… yeah, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you, I promise! See you! Love you! Bye!”

He places a brisk kiss onto Harry's lips and speeds out the door, leaving Harry looking puzzled.

Fortunately, luck is on Louis' side today; his parents aren’t home yet when he arrives at 10:07. The first things he does when he gets to his house are go upstairs, flop facedown on his bed, and scream into his pillow. When he's tired of screaming, he grabs the pillow and hugs it to his chest.

“Oh, my _God_!” he yells. “Holy crap!”

He's in awe of how drastically his life has changed in the span of less than a half hour. He and Harry  _kissed_!

When Louis has changed into his pajamas and is wearing the jumper Harry left at his house ages ago (it still smells like him), he climbs into bed and grabs the telephone sitting on his nightstand. He punches in the number that he could recite in his sleep by now. Someone picks up.

“Hullo, this is Louis – is this Harry?”

* * *

July 5th, 1987

Harry wakes up from the most _wonderful_ dream he's ever had. He had told Louis he's gay, and Louis kissed him and said he was gay, too… oh, it was absolutely amazing! The moments begin to replay in his head.

_Harry gathers up all the fearlessness he can. He can trust Louis. He’s his best friend. “Louis… I’m gay.”_

_Louis' mouth falls open, and he reaches to cover it. Softly, he asks, “Are you taking the fucking piss?!”_

_Harry hides his face in his hands._ He’s going to hate me _, Harry tells himself._ He thinks being gay is a joke. _“No, I’m not, I swear. I’m… gay. Homosexual. I… I fancy boys, Louis.”_

As Harry slowly regains more consciousness, he becomes aware that… maybe this wasn’t a dream? He remembers calling Louis last night. Or… was that part of the dream, too?

_Faster than Harry can even process, Louis kisses him! It’s hurried and passionate and their noses get in the way, so they tilt their heads to fix it. Sparks fly, and Harry can’t believe this is actually happening to him right now._

_The fireworks start going off, but they sound far away. Harry has no idea how to kiss someone, but he presses his lips back onto Louis'._ This feels fucking _fantastic_!

He glares at the phone on his nightstand. _Should I call him? What would I say?_

Against his own wishes, Harry grabs the phone and punches in Louis’ number.

_Louis says something that Harry will never, ever forget: “I… I’ll admit, I’ve been in love with you for two years, too, Harry.”_

_“Holy fucking shit,” Harry whispers. None of this feels real._

_“That about sums it up.”_

_It seems that neither of them has any words left. The air echoes with humidity and silence._

_Harry hears Louis speak at last. “So… what now?”_

_Harry shrugs. “I dunno. I’d really like to kiss you again, if you wouldn’t mind that.” He can feel his cheeks getting pinker by the second._

_Louis grins wider than Harry's ever seen him grin before, and Harry thinks that, yes, this is definitely what being in love feels like. “I’ve been waiting two years to hear you say something like that.”_

After a few rings, Louis picks up the phone. _“Louis Tomlinson speaking – who’s this?”_

“It’s Harry.”

_“Oh, hey, love! What’s up?”_

Harry freezes. _Did he just call me “love”?_ “Louis, uh… what did we do last night?”

 _“Have you… have you forgotten?”_  Louis sounds nervous all of a sudden.

“No, I just… wanted to make sure I didn’t dream it up.”

 _“You definitely didn’t dream it up. We, er…”_ Louis lowers his voice to nearly a whisper. _“We definitely kissed.”_

Harry's heart feels like it’s going to launch itself into the atmosphere. “We really did?! Oh, my God! Can I— can I come over? Or, do you want to come over? I want to, like, see you! This is a really big thing!”

_“If you want to come over in about an hour, I’d love that.”_

“Great! Great. I’ll see you then.”

—

Harry arrives at Louis’ house and finds that Louis' parents are out. Louis is supposed to be watching his sisters, but they’re all in Lottie and Fizzy’s room playing pretend tea party, so he thinks they should be fine on their own. He’ll be able to hear if anything happens in there.

They sit on the end of the bed, legs crossed in front of them. Harry's always loved Louis’ room; the posters and slight disorder make it feel very lived-in, and he's grown so accustomed to Louis' room that it’s comforting to be in there.

“I think we need to discuss some things pertaining to… us kissing,” Louis says quietly.

Harry's eyes widen, eyebrows raised.

“Not in a bad way! I just mean… this is going to have to be a secret. People would shit on us even more than they already do if they knew.”

“Oh, yes,” Harry says, relaxing. “Damn it, Lou, you can’t start sentences with things like ‘we need to discuss some things pertaining to us’. But, yes, we’re definitely not telling _anyone_ that we’re, like, kissing and stuff; I…” Harry stares at his lap. “I think I’d get kicked out of my house.”

He looks up and sees Louis nod.

“So, uh, I was thinking we could set some ‘rules’ in place of when it’s okay to, like… kiss,” Louis suggests. “In order to not blow our cover.”

“Totally not when any adults are home.”

“I mean… what if they’re downstairs? We’d probably hear them coming up.”

“Would we, though? Also, think of what’d happen if they came in and weren’t kissing, but we both… had hard-ons…”

“Ooh, yikes. Okay, I agree – nothing happens while parents are home. What about my sisters?”

“They, uh… we can lock the door?”

“I can’t,” Louis replies. “I need my sisters to be able to come in if they need me.”

“How about… we keep it G-rated with your sisters home. We can usually hear them coming – they’re pretty loud – so we can still kiss. And, if no one’s home, everything is fair game as long as no windows or doors are open.”

“Alright. Sounds fair enough.”

Harry stares into his bright blue eyes, and he feels like his muscles are turning into goop. Louis is wearing this cropped sleeveless shirt and little shorts that show off his legs and tummy, and his skin is golden and tanned from running around in the sun all summer. He’s absolutely gorgeous.

“Y’know, rule number two says we can kiss while my sisters are home,” Louis says with a smirk.

Harry's heart and stomach flutter with excitement. “You’re correct.”

Harry uncrosses his legs in order to minimize the space between them. Louis gently places a hand on Harry's cheek, and when Harry closes his eyes, Louis' lips connect with his. Harry's stomach does a somersault. Cautiously, he places his hands on Louis' bare waist. Louis’ other hand makes its way up to Harry's shoulder, then to his neck. He absentmindedly plays with the hair at the nape of Harry's neck, and he continues to do so even after they’ve stopped kissing.

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are?” Louis asks.

Harry blushes. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. They’re like… a rainforest, ‘cause they’re bright green and I could get lost in them. They’re pretty intense.”

Harry blushes even more.

“You know…” he says, “Now I can finally tell you about all the times I thought you looked hot.”

“Do tell.”

“Well, there was that outfit you wore when we went to see The Cure… and homecoming… and when we went to the diner on Valentine’s Day, and you wore that red sweater with the white shirt underneath? You looked lovely. By the way, that was totally me trying to make a move on you. I was imagining us on a date the whole time.”

“Me, too.”

“You looked so handsome at prom, too! God, I was so jealous of how nice you looked, since my face was all fucked up.”

“Oi, don’t put yourself down about that! You still looked gorgeous, I promise. Battle scars are hot.”

Harry chuckles, and Louis kisses his cheek.

“My favorite _by far_ , though, was the David Bowie costume last Halloween,” Harry adds. “I was _so gone_ for you in that outfit. Jeez. I was hiding a boner behind that fake Beatles guitar.”

“Ha! Don’t even get me _started_ on hiding boners from you! I’ve lost count of how many times that’s happened.” They laugh about it together. “I also tried to kiss you, like, _so_ many times.”

“I think I might have tried once or twice. I totally tried to tell you I was gay a few times. The first time, I chickened out, and I was interrupted the another time.”

“Imagine the trouble it would’ve saved us if you’d told me earlier.” He touches his forehead to Harry's. “What about that girl you said you liked? Was she fake?”

“Completely. She doesn’t even exist. That’s why I didn’t tell you about her in the first place. Liam saw that I was crushing on someone – it was you – and pressured me into making something up for him.”

“You’re an airhead.” Louis kisses his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They close their eyes and kiss. It’s a very serene and romantic moment until they hear a voice from another room shout, “ _Boo-Bear_!”

Louis groans. “I’ll go see what they need.”

They untangle themselves from one another. Louis walks towards the bedroom door, hips swaying slightly, his curves and his cute butt accentuated by his clothing choices. (God, his ass is _so nice_.)

Upon his return a few minutes later, Louis informs Harry that Daisy had refused to serve tea to Fizzy’s teddy bear, which made Fizzy quite upset. He’d settled the whole ordeal.

“Now, where did we leave off?” he asks, sauntering towards Harry with a smile. One of his sisters yells again. “Oh, for God’s sake! I’ll be back.”

He turns and walks out again.

* * *

July 17th, 1987

It’s been about two weeks since Louis and Harry kissed for the first time and confessed their feelings for one another, and Louis has been going _crazy_ for some alone time with him. Everywhere they go, they’re either in public or a family member is around to invade their privacy. Not to mention the fact that they’ve both been at work a fair amount, too. The last time they kissed was three or four days ago.

Today, however, they've gotten permission from their parents to sleep over by the lake. They’ve driven Louis' car down there, and they’re going to sleep in the truck bed.

Dusk slowly approaches. The sun is setting over the lake and casting gorgeous hues over the sky and everything around them. They've started a little fire on the sand.

Harry spreads a picnic blanket out next to their fire.

Louis sighs when the two of them sit down together. “ _Finally_ , we’re alone!” He stares fondly at him.

“Honestly, I was going to lose it if we couldn’t find some one-on-one time,” Harry agrees. They share a tender, but brief kiss. “I brought a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?” Louis asks.

“I may have made us dinner.”

“What?”

Harry begins to pull some wrapped food out of the backpack he’s brought along. “It’s not much, but I made us some grilled cheese sandwiches and homemade French fries to eat. And, cookies for dessert.”

“Have I mentioned yet today that I love you?”

He tries to hide a smile from Louis. “Now you have.”

“Thank you,” Louis says. He kisses his cheek.

Harry is a wonderful cook, and the food is delicious. They continue to talk, with music playing in the background, even after all of the food is gone.

Harry laughs at something Louis has said, and he throws his head back. He’s got a scarf wrapped around his head that has an American flag pattern on it.

“That scarf looks really nice on you,” Louis says. “You should wear one more often.”

“Oh. Thanks. I like it when you wear cropped shirts and I can see your tummy.”

Louis looks down at his unexposed torso. “Guess you’re out of luck today.”

Harry chuckles. Then, he clears his throat, like he usually does when he’s about to tell Louis something serious. Louis listens intently.

“We’ve been, uh, kissing in secret for a while now, yeah?” he begins. “And, I… this is really old-fashioned of me, and you’re gonna laugh, but I wanted to ask if you’d like to make this an official relationship? And be my… boyfriend?” He snickers to himself. “Just as confirmation that neither of us will be kissing anyone else in secret.”

Louis grins as widely as possible. (Harry’s so bloody _charming_.) “There isn’t anyone else on Earth I’d even _want_ to kiss in secret. But, yes, I would like nothing more than to be your boyfriend.”

“Phew! That would’ve been really embarrassing if you’d said no.”

Louis laughs at him.

“Don’t laugh at me, you little shit,” Harry says, grinning.

“Why don’t you _make_ me stop, then?”

“‘Don’t mess with the bull, young man; you’ll get the horns’,” he says, mocking a deep voice and poking Louis' sides.

“That’s from a film, is it not?”

“It is. If you guess what it is, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Fair deal. I have no idea, though.”

“ _The Breakfast Club_. You can have a kiss anyway.”

“I like the sound of that.”

They kiss, and Harry tastes sweet, like the chocolate chip cookies they were eating earlier.

“You taste like chocolate,” Louis says.

“You also taste like chocolate.”

“Touché.” He looks up at the sun setting over the lake. “Y’know, if we put this fire out we can have a cuddle in the back of the truck and watch the sunset.”

“That sounds disgustingly romantic. I’m in.”

“Awesome.”

They douse the fire and leave their little fire pit in case they’d like to use it again later. Then, they climb into the back of the truck.

“Okay… how are we gonna do this?” Louis asks. “Like, do we want to sit next to each other and I’ll put my arm around you? Or do you put your arm around me…?”

Harry sighs. “I have no idea. I’ve never had a proper cuddle with anyone before.”

Louis chuckles halfheartedly. “Me neither.”

Harry climbs into his lap and leans back against him, then wraps Louis' arms around him. “Problem solved.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize my boyfriend was such a genius! I’m afraid my intellect can’t be compared.”

Louis leans his head forward and presses a few kisses to Harry's cheek.

“You’re really smart, too,” Harry says. “You can read Shakespeare – you’ve gotta be pretty smart to do that.”

Louis laughs. “I’ve gotta admit something a little embarrassing: I only said I liked Shakespeare to impress you.”

“Oh, my God, Louis…”

“I know, I know. I did read _Hamlet_ over the winter holiday, though. But only ‘cause I wanted to impress you.”

“You liar.”

“Twat.”

“ _I’m_ a twat?! You’re the one who pretended to have read _Hamlet_ to impress me!”

“I just told you, I _have_ read _Hamlet_!”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“Promise?”

“Bag your face.” He turns his head to the side to kiss Louis, reaching a hand up to hold the side of his face. They kiss, and kiss, and kiss… and, all of a sudden, there’s a tongue in Louis' mouth that isn’t his. It’s quite a new experience, but he likes it, so he doesn’t make a fuss about it.

Louis can feel his breath as they kiss, and he still tastes kind of sweet. Louis moves his arms and wraps them firmly around Harry's waist. Their bodies are very close as Harry leans back against him, and Louis is quite fond of our current situation. This is the closest he's ever been to making out with anyone. (Louis guesses this could be considered making out. He wonders if "making out" just means there's tongue involved, or if there's something else to it.)

“Where’d you learn to kiss like that, huh?” Louis asks when they’ve finished.

Harry's cheeks flush with color. “I mean… you know me, I watch a lot of films. There’s a lot of kissing in films. I just, uh… copied what I’ve seen, I guess?” His face turns a deeper shade of red with every word.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, love,” Louis tells him. “It’s quite impressive, actually.”

This only makes Harry’s condition worse.

“Would you quit that? You look like a strawberry. I can’t be dating a strawberry.”

“You’re insufferable.”

He smiles. Louis feels Harry's body relax as he leans back against him once more. Louis' arms are still wrapped around his waist.

“We haven’t even watched the sunset at all yet,” he realizes with a snicker. “We’ve just been sitting here and snogging.”

“Hey, I enjoyed the snogging!”

“Me, too.”

“We’re watching the sunset _now_ , though, are we not?”

“I suppose we are.”

They sit in silence for a little while, listening to the lake water stirring and watching as the sun goes down. Louis plays with Harry’s hair, and Harry plays with Louis' fingers and the hem of his shirt.

—

When the sun has gone down, Louis says, “I want to go swimming; I wish I’d brought a swimsuit.”

“We could still go swimming,” Harry says.

“And get my clothes all wet and have them smell like lake water? I need to wear these clothes again tomorrow, you know.”

He shrugs. “We could go skinny dipping.”

Louis' eyes bug out of his head. Harry gets up from his position lying in his lap and looks at him, then blushes when he sees Louis' expression. “Oh, fuck, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m… I’m not very self-conscious about being undressed, especially in front of people I’m comfortable around. I didn’t…” He laughs nervously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound weird.”

“It’s not weird, I just… well, you’re quite full of surprises tonight. And, I… I just don’t know if I’m comfortable skinny dipping. With anyone – it’s not personal. I like to keep that area, uh… private.”

“Please tell me you brought a change of underwear.”

Louis perks up. “I did! Problem solved.”

Immediately, Harry stands up and begins to strip off his clothes. Louis looks up at him and tries not to stare as he pulls his shirt over his head, then pulls his shorts off. He's suddenly left drooling over his mostly-naked boyfriend. (His  _boyfriend_! Louis  _loves_ that word.)

Harry waggles his eyebrows. “You like what you see?”

“Shut up.” Louis turns away, smiling and blushing like an idiot, and then pulls off his shirt. By the time he's undressed, Harry has climbed out of the truck bed and is dipping his toes into the water.

They swim until the sky is pitch black and the moon is rising over the lake. Then, they dry off and put on the clothes they’ve brought to sleep in. They rekindle the fire and wrap a big blanket around the two of them, snuggling by the fire.

Once they're all dried off, Louis and Harry get into the truck bed and go to sleep.

* * *

July 25th, 1987

There’s a county fair in town a short while away from East Chicago, and Harry and Louis have decided to go together today.

As soon as they finished lunch, they headed out to the fair together. It’s a hot day, but they buy some ice cream when they arrive. There are all kinds of booths with games and contests and such. Louis offers to win Harry a teddy bear at a ring toss booth. He doesn’t win the bear; however, when Harry tries, he manages to win one for Louis.

There’s also a petting zoo there with animals like goats, sheep, and pigs. The piglets are absolutely _adorable_ , and Louis says he wishes he’d brought a camera to take pictures of Harry with them. He says Harry looks like the piglet overlord, since they all keep swarming around him.

They play games, get their faces painted (Harry gets a rainbow and Louis gets a little bee), go on rides, and watch the talent show featuring some local bands and singers. The groups cover a lot of songs, and Harry loves watching Louis sing along to all of them.

Inside the fun house, he and Louis try to find their way through the maze despite the mirrors on every wall. Harry's been trying to find him again for a few minutes when he finally spots him.

“Oh, Louis, there you are,” Harry says, walking towards Louis. It turns out that it’s just Louis' reflection, and Harry bangs his forehead on a mirror.

“Harry, you’re too clumsy for your own good,” he hears Louis say. Louis was actually _behind_ him, not in front of him. Harry turns around and Louis inspects his forehead. “You’ll be fine. There isn’t a bruise or anything.”

“Good.”

“Why don’t we hold hands and go through the rest of this fun house together? That way we don’t have to find each other again.”

“That sounds a lot like an excuse to hold my hand.”

“It is.”

“Alright, I’ll take it.”

They lace their fingers together and hold hands. Harry's heart does a happy little somersault.

After making it out of the fun house, they have to let go of each other, but they sit down on a bench to eat some deep-fried Oreos. It’s dark out at this point, and the fair is all lit up.

“These hit the spot,” Harry says with his mouth a bit full, “but I can actually _taste_ how unhealthy they are.”

“I agree.”

Harry looks across the pathway and sees a couple sitting at a picnic table. They’re feeding each other French fries and eating both ends of fries so that their lips meet in the middle. A sad feeling creeps upon him, mixed with jealousy.

Louis follows his gaze to the lovers across the way.

“Harry…” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

Harry looks up and meets his gaze. Louis' eyes are striking. “You don’t have to be sorry. I just… yeah.” He sighs.

“I know. I wish we could be like that so, _so_ badly.”

An unsettling mood clouds around the two of them as they both think about things that can never be. Louis averts his gaze and looks up.

“We still haven’t done one thing here,” he points out. “Are you afraid of heights?”

Harry glances up at the Ferris wheel and smiles. “Not at all.”

They finish their fried Oreos and make their way onto the Ferris wheel. They talk and laugh as it goes up, and soon they’re a couple hundred feet in the air.

“We should count shoulders,” Louis says abruptly. The breeze tosses his hair around slightly.

“What?”

“One, two…” He starts on his shoulder that’s farthest from Harry and goes to his other one, then continues on Harry's shoulders. “…three, four.” He reaches his arm around Harry to touch his other shoulder. He rests his hand there, leaving his arm around his boyfriend.

“You’re a little shit. That was the corniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“But it was smooth as hell.”

“Was not.”

“You _know_ it was. You _liked_ it.”

“I— I, uh…” Harry's words falter. He smiles to himself. “Yeah. It was cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“You’re pretty cute, too.”

Louis starts to lean in to kiss him, but Harry puts a hand to his lips. “People could see us, Lou.”

“No one’s looking at us all the way up here, and no one at this fair knows us - it's not like they have anyone to tell. Besides, kissing up on a Ferris wheel would be really romantic…” he teases.

“There were actual fireworks going off during our first kiss. I think we’ve had our fair share of romance.”

“Please?”

“ _Louis_.”

Louis pouts.

“…Just for a few seconds.”

“Deal.”

They kiss. Louis’ lips are chapped, and they kind of get stuck on Harry's, but it doesn’t feel bad at all.

“I love you,” Harry says quietly.

“And I love you. I feel like our mutual love is really what keeps this relationship going, y’know?”

“Every time I try to be tender and romantic, you say something stupid.”

“As your boyfriend, I’d say that, in my professional opinion, you like it when I say stupid things.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right.”

Louis kisses Harry's temple and leans his head on his shoulder. “One day we’ll be able to be ourselves in public, babe. You wait and see. The world is changing, and one day everyone will accept that we’re the real deal.”

“I hope so.” Harry sighs, his stomach still filled with butterflies after Louis called him “babe”. “I really hope so.”

* * *

August 18th, 1987

School is back in full swing, and Harry and Louis started their senior year last week. It’s their last year of high school, and they're determined to make as many memories as possible after their summer was so successful.

Harry has work today at the cinema, and Louis has work as well, so Harry doubts they’ll have much time to see each other after school today. It makes Harry sad how little time they've gotten to spend alone since school started again. They used to have whole days to themselves over the summer, since their parents would be at work, and they were able to run off to someplace to be alone in the afternoons and evenings. Now, they’re at school while their parents are working, and their after-school time is taken up by work and homework. Harry feels like he hasn’t been able to kiss Louis in ages.

Harry rips another ticket and hands it to a customer.

“Wow, I wonder who the handsome lad ripping tickets at the front is!” he hears Louis’ voice say.

Harry looks up and grins. “What are you doing here?”

“I just got off of work and wanted to stop by.” He lowers his voice. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. School sucks.”

Louis nods.

Harry says, “…I don’t have a lot of homework tonight, if you’d like to stay here for a while. When my shift is up, we could see the film that came out on Friday, _Can’t Buy Me Love_.” My voice softens. “I know it’s not really the alone time we were looking for, but if we sit in the back row we can kinda cuddle. And, I can get us in for free.”

“That sounds great.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. I’ll see you then.”

—

The film turns out to be very cute. Harry and Louis get to hold hands during it, and Harry puts his arm around him. It feels like what being a couple _should_ feel like, if only for an hour and a half.

Harry comes home feeling like he's on cloud nine.

He eats a late dinner at home, and his mum keeps him company while he eats.

“Harry, I have a question for you,” his mum says. “You’ve been acting a little different lately… more secretive. Is there anything you want to tell me about?”

Harry nearly chokes on his dinner, but he tries to hide it. “Nope. Why do you ask?”

“You seemed like you might be hiding something. You never tell me anything anymore.” She sighs. “I remember you used to tell me everything when you were a kid. You’d tell me all about your friends and what you did at school that day, and you’d always have a story for me.”

“I mean… not much really happens in high school. I’d totally tell you if anything exciting happened.”

She nods. Then, she laughs to herself. “For a minute, I thought you’d gotten a girlfriend and didn’t tell me.”

For the second time tonight, Harry finds himself being almost suffocated by his dinner. He forces a laugh and a smile to keep up the act. “You know I would never hide a girlfriend from you.”

She smiles.

“I’m… I think I’m all done with my dinner,” he tells her.

“You’ve barely eaten.”

“I had a lot of popcorn at the movies.”

“Okay. Goodnight, sweetie.”

“G’nite, Mum.”

He quickly excuses himself and heads upstairs to shower and put his pajamas on.

As he tries to sleep, he finds that guilt has started to cloud his thoughts. He feels really bad for lying to his mum, but it’s not like he can simply come right out and say, “I’m homosexual and I’ve had a boyfriend behind your back for over a month!” She’d probably give him a talk about keeping secrets from her and then tell him to pack up his things and go.

He reaches over to his bedside table and dials his best friend’s number; his boyfriend’s number; the 10 digits he's known by heart for months.

_“Louis Tomlinson speaking.”_

Harry breathes out a sigh of relief. Quietly, he replies, “Hi, Lou.”

 _“Hey, mate.”_ He sounds groggy.

“Sorry if I woke you. I needed to talk to you.”

_“About what?”_

“Nothing in particular. My mind was wandering and I wanted to talk to someone to distract myself. And you know you’re the only person I ever want to talk to.”

Louis chuckles. _“I don’t know whether or not I should be worried about you. Maybe you need to make some more friends.”_

“I have plenty of friends! I just like talking to you best.”

_“I suppose if it’s talking you want, talking’s what you’ll get. Where was your mind wandering to before I picked up the phone?”_

Harry lowers his voice. “I feel bad for lying to my mum about us. I know it’s for the best, but… you know what I mean. I’m sure you’ve felt the same way.”

_“Mhm. Well, I’m always here if you need someone to talk to, babe.”_

Harry smiles to himself. “I know.”

He and Louis talk for hours, and the conversation wanders to any and every subject they can think of. Harry gets tired and tells Louis he's going to sleep. They say their goodbyes and “love you”’s and hang up.

* * *

August 23rd, 1987

It’s Sunday morning. Louis and Harry went to a David Bowie concert last night, and Louis came home super exhausted. He figures Harry will let him sleep in as long as he needs to after their exciting night out, but his illusions are shattered when Harry rings him up at quarter to ten in the morning.

 _“Louis, you promised me we would see_ Dirty Dancing _together today!”_ Harry reminds him.

“Yeah, but not at 9:00AM,” Louis responds, accompanied by a loud groan.

 _“I want to go_ now _, though.”_

He sighs. “Maybe if you pay me back for it.”

_“With what?”_

“I dunno. You decide.”

_“That’s too ambiguous for me. I’m gonna need more specific instructions.”_

“I’m not conscious enough to give you specific instructions.”

 _“Fine. I’ll pay you back, then. But_ please _come see the film with me.”_

Louis huffs. “I’ll be at your house, uh… fairly soon.”

He hangs up the phone and drags his body out of bed.

The morning is pleasant as he drives to Harry’s home, and he rolls the windows down and lights a cigarette. He pops in one of his many mixtapes and lets the music play softly. Purely by coincidence, this cassette happens to be the mixtape he made for he and Harry to listen to over the summer. The song that plays is “Weird Science” by Oingo Boingo, and Louis smiles because it reminds him of the film _Weird Science_ , which reminds him of John Hughes, which makes him think of Harry.

He makes it to Harry’s house, and Harry takes shotgun next to him. They hug very briefly and begin to talk, and Louis is sad that they can’t share even a short kiss.

Louis knows he should be grateful for the time they  _do_ have alone together – last night, they found a secluded parking spot at the concert and fooled around for a while after the show was over. But it seems to him that, the more they kiss, the more Louis longs to do it again. He guesses there are just some things you can’t change.

He and Harry sing along to Bryan Adams’ “Summer of ‘69” while they drive to the cinema, and Louis reminds himself that he can’t waste time thinking about mashing with Harry. The idea might be nice, but he needs to appreciate the time they spend together, no matter what they’re doing.

The film is incredible. Louis tends to pay more attention to Harry than he does to the films they see, but this one has him enthralled. (Also, Louis thinks Patrick Swayze is a total _babe_.) The music and dancing are really good, and the whole story is fabulously well-done.

“Did you like it?” Harry asks him when they exit the theater.

“I _loved_ it, actually,” Louis admits. “For once, I’m pretty glad you dragged me out of bed to see a film.”

“Oh, my God, I’m so glad!” Harry laughs. “I bet I could lift you up like Johnny did with Baby at the end of the movie.”

“Oh, _really_? I’d like to see you try.”

That’s how they end up getting old mattresses out of Louis' garage and setting them up around them in his backyard.

“Take 1!” Harry says. “Just jump up, and I’ll catch you.”

Harry does not catch Louis, nor does he catch him the next 8 times he says he’s going to.

“Harry, love, I don’t think you’re going to be able to do it,” Louis says, out of breath after jumping so much.

“I will, I promise!” He’s panting, too. “Just try again!”

“ _Ugh._ Fine.”

Louis hops onto a mattress. Then, he takes a step and bounces into the air once more. Harry miraculously holds him up in the air for merely a second, but he slips on the grass and falls onto a mattress, taking Louis down with him.

“Did you see that?! Louis, we _have_ to try again, I was totally about to do it before I fell!”

Now, Louis is starting to believe him. They put a towel on the ground underneath Harry’s feet to prevent him from slipping again, and Louis readies himself to try again.

“You’d better fucking catch me this time,” he warns. The statement is concluded by a short laugh.

“I promise.” Harry looks him in the eyes and repeats his previous words. “I _promise_.”

Louis jumps.

He sails into the air, and by a stroke of luck, Harry catches him. Louis spreads his arms out, closes his eyes, and lets the soft breeze brush against his face.

“I feel like I’m flying!” he says. “Like Peter Pan!”

Harry laughs.

Louis stays up in the air for a few seconds. His sisters come out of the house and stand agape at he and Harry’s achievement.

“Here come the Lost Boys,” Louis jokes. “You can put me down now.”

Harry lets him gently fall onto a mattress.

“Your arms are gonna be aching for days,” Louis tells him.

“Don’t even make me think about it. Can you pass me my inhaler?”

Louis hands him the little box with his inhaler in it. It’s been sitting nearby the whole time, waiting to assist Harry after their exhausting activity.

“I’m gonna go inside and get us some drinks, okay?” Louis says.

Harry nods, and Louis walks towards the door to his house.

* * *

October 12th, 1987

Autumn has descended upon the town of East Chicago, Indiana, and everyone is starting to bring out their sweaters, hot cocoa, and Halloween decorations. Senior year has been relentless towards Harry and his friends, and it feels like he hasn’t had time to hang with them – especially with just his boyfriend – in weeks.

At the end of the school day, he sees Louis on the steps of East Chicago High School.

“Harry! I was just looking for you,” Louis tells him. “I thought we could go pumpkin-picking this evening, to spend some alone time together.”

“Louis, that sounds so lovely,” Harry responds. “I’ll be there.”

Liam jogs over to them.

“Liam! How are you?” Harry asks.

“I’m alright. What are you guys up to today?”

“We’re going pumpkin-picking,” Louis chimes in. “Wanna come?”

“Maybe another time. I’ve got soccer practice tonight.”

“Ah, mate, that sucks.”

“Yeah.” Liam looks around. “Yikes, my bus is about to leave without me – I’ll catch you later!” He runs off.

Harry turns to Louis. “My parents won’t let me go pumpkin-picking unless I do my homework first, so I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Louis salutes him and walks off. Harry grabs his bike from the bike rack and heads home.

—

The fall air is crisp and chilly. Harry arrives at the pumpkin patch only to find that Louis is already there, inspecting the pumpkins.

“This one is really big, but it’s kind of dented,” Louis tells him. “I think we should get prettier pumpkins.”

Harry nods. They set off through the large pumpkin patch, conversing and looking at each and every pumpkin to find the right ones. Louis needs a lot of pumpkins for his sisters, so he brought a little wagon for them.

“What are you going to be for Halloween?” he asks Harry.

“I dunno. I’d like to be Westley from that film we saw last month, _The Princess Bride_ , but I don’t know where I’d find a costume like that.”

Louis snickers. “Maybe you should be Johnny from _Dirty Dancing_.”

“And you’d be my Baby.”

“Ha! If only we could. To be honest, I’d wear the dress if people wouldn’t beat me up for it.”

“You’d look nice in it.”

“Thanks.” Louis pauses. “Did you hear about the march that went on yesterday?”

“No; what was it?”

“A huge mass of people marched on the White House yesterday to protest the government not doing anything about the AIDS crisis. They were broadcasting it on the news.”

“Was it all, like…?” Harry lowers his voice. “Gay people?”

Louis nods. “Just like you and me. Fighting for our rights. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Yeah, really cool!”

Harry leans down and looks at another pumpkin. “I think I want to have this one.”

Louis helps him lift the pumpkin into the wagon. Then, they wheel all of their pumpkins over to Louis’ car and put all except Harry's into the truck bed.

“Thank you for coming with me to pick these out,” Louis says, leaning against his car.

“You know there isn’t anything else I’d rather do with my afternoon.”

“Yeah, but…” He sighs and opts for giving Harry a tight hug.

“See you later?” Harry suggests.

“Mhm. See you.”

He carries his pumpkin to the car he's borrowed from his parents and drives off.

* * *

November 6th, 1987

“Please behave yourself, Harry,” his stepdad says. “No parties, no drinking – you know the rules. If Louis comes over, make sure that the two of you aren’t making a mess.”

Harry salutes, a joking grin on his face. “Yes, Sir.”

“Hey, don’t be a smartass, kid.”

“Don’t use that language around him, honey,” his mum scolds. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Okay.”

Harry's mum kisses his temple and follows his dad to their car. It’s pretty cloudy outside, and it’s definitely going to rain tonight.

When they’ve left, and Harry is absolutely _positive_ they’re gone, he races over to a phone and punches in Louis’ number.

“Lou, my parents just left town and they’re going to be gone until Sunday afternoon,” he tells him.

The line is dead silent. Then, he hears Louis reply, _“I’ll be there in an hour.”_

He hangs up, leaving Harry to wait for him. Harry has nothing better to do, so he makes sure that everything is clean. While he wanders around, he turns on the radio. That Rick Astley song everyone listens to now is playing, “Never Gonna Give You Up”. Harry thinks it’s a pretty fun song, but Louis doesn’t like it that much.

When a knock finally sounds on the door, Harry straightens out his hair, brushes any dirt off of his sweater, and opens the door. Louis stands there, grinning like a maniac. While he usually only brings an overnight bag to Harry's house, this time he has a small duffel bag and his guitar case.

Harry smiles. “What are you doing? Moving in?” he asks.

“I’m staying the whole weekend.”

His jaw drops. “Are you taking the piss?!”

“My parents trust you. They like you. I’m staying the whole weekend.”

“Oh, my _God_!”

“I know!”

“Here, come inside. I’ll find a place for you to put your things.”

Harry lets him step inside, and they walk up the stairs to his room. They end up putting Louis' duffel bag and guitar in one corner of Harry's room.

“So, wh—?!”

Harry feels bad for cutting Louis off, but he needed to kiss him _so badly_.

He gives Louis the chance to finish what he was going to say, but Louis simply laughs and tells him, “I was just about to ask you when we were going to snog.”

“Is now a good time?”

“Now is a _wonderful_ time.”

Harry kisses him again. He ends up sitting on the edge of his bed. Louis sits in his lap, legs wrapped around Harry's waist and arms wound around his neck. Harry's hands are under his sweater, and he can feel how warm Louis' body is compared to the chill in the air outside. His breath is hot against Harry's. He tastes like cigarettes. (Louis often tastes like cigarettes.)

Louis tries to pull his sweater off, but because of the position they’re in, it’s kinda difficult for him to do so. He scoots off Harry's lap and onto the bed next to him, and Harry pulls the sweater off himself. Then, he removes  _Louis'_ sweater and lays him down on the bed. Harry peppers his body with kisses.

“Jeez, Harry, this is only the welcome kiss,” Louis says. “I can’t even imagine what the rest of the weekend is going to be like.”

“Very romantic,” Harry assures him. He kisses the spot where Louis' neck meets his left shoulder, and he decides he wants to leave a little hickey there, so that’s what he begins to do.

Louis makes a pleased sound, but after a few seconds he says, “Harry, stop!”

Harry moves away. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked if you were okay with it.”

Louis smiles. “Don’t apologize, babe, but don’t put it where everyone’s going to _see it_.”

He blushes. “Oh. I didn’t think of that.” Harry runs his gaze along Louis' torso. “I guess I’ve got to find a new place, huh?”

Harry kisses his cheek, then his jaw, then below his jaw, then his neck. He leaves a little trail of kisses until he reaches a spot right below Louis' collarbone. “How about here?”

“Perfect.”

He and Louis continue their heated mashing. Harry doesn’t think they’ve ever kissed like this before. Louis’ hands are splayed across Harry's back, and his tongue is in Harry's mouth. Both their hands and lips wander across each other's bodies.

Several minutes pass, though Harry has no idea how long it’s been – he's not keeping track – when Louis says something that surprises him: “We can have sex if you want to.”

Harry's eyes bug out of his head, and he's afraid he might have misheard Louis. He moves next to him and sits cross-legged on the bed. “Can you repeat that?”

Louis sits up. “I said we can have sex if you want to. Not necessarily _now_ , but I wanted to make it clear that that’s an option… if you want it to be.”

Harry ponders on Louis' words. “I think I want to. No, I _want to_ , but not right now. Not today.”

Louis’ face shows a joyful expression. “Really?”

“Yeah. But, again… not this weekend. Besides…” Harry feels a pink flush creep up his cheeks. He mumbles, “I don’t actually know how gay people have sex.”

“Are you serious?” Louis asks. He’s chuckling.

Harry's face gets more and more pink. “Yes.”

Louis sits behind him and wraps his arms around him, then kisses his cheek. His hands run over the hickeys he’s left on Harry. “Do you want me to tell you?”

“Yes,” Harry repeats.

Louis whispers it in his ear, causing the red in Harry's cheeks to reach his ears as well.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says. “I guess that makes sense.”

Louis nods, then asks, “Oi, d’you want me to put a record on?”

“Sure.”

He gets up and walks over to his belongings. His bare chest is riddled with lovebites.

“I brought some records I knew you wouldn’t have. How do you feel about George Michael’s solo album?”

It seems Harry's embarrassment is destined to continue.

“I think George Michael is sexy,” Harry admits sheepishly.

“You are truly a treasure trove of surprises,” Louis tells him as he sets the record on the turntable. “George doesn’t play for our team, though.”

“He could.”

“I don’t think so.”

“He totally could, Lou. I bet you George has a secret boyfriend, too.”

“Let’s make a deal. If George Michael ever comes out as gay, I will find you no matter where you are and pay you $50.”

“Game on. I think I’ll spend my $50 on concert tickets to see him.”

Louis shakes his head. He goes through Harry's closet as they speak, putting on a leather jacket Harry owns but usually doesn’t wear.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks.

“Have you seen the music video for the first song on this album? ‘Faith’? I don’t know how much MTV you watch.” Louis puts on a pair of aviator sunglasses he takes from Harry's shelf. (Harry bought those after they went to see _Top Gun_ last year.) Louis then gets his guitar out and slings the strap over his shoulders.

“No,” Harry replies.

A church organ plays from the record.

“Well, it goes a bit like this.”

The music starts, and Louis begins to swing his hips and pretend to play his guitar. Harry laughs and watches fondly as Louis mouths the words and swings the instrument around, shaking his ass. His George Michael impression is certainly entertaining, if nothing else, and Harry enjoys the little private show. He doodles a picture of Louis in his notebook wearing his current getup.

After the song is over, Louis puts his guitar down and continues to look around Harry's room.

“You look like a Greaser from _The Outsiders_ ,” Harry tells him.

“Haven’t seen it.”

“I _have_ to have watched that with you.”

“…Maybe.”

“It’s the one with all the hot guys in it. Patrick Swayze, Tom Cruise, and Emilio Estevez are all in it.”

“Hm. I don’t think so. We should watch it later, especially ‘cause you said there are a bunch of hot guys in it.”

Harry nods. Then he asks, “Do you think I’m hot, Louis?” The question is kind of random, but it’s been on his mind for a while.

“I think you’re fucking gorgeous,” Louis says, turning around wearing Harry's Indiana Jones hat with the whip looped around his belt loop.

“You know how girls’ Halloween costumes are always the ‘sexy version’ of everything? You look like an ad for a sexy cowboy costume,” Harry tells him.

The song playing right now is “I Want Your Sex”. Louis sings the words and thrusts his hips out.

“That’s ridiculous and obscene,” Harry comments.

“You like it, though.” Louis walks over to him and leans down, his face barely centimeters away from Harry's. He bites his lip. This gesture is also ridiculous and obscene. His eyebrows are raised just a tad, which draws attention to his ocean eyes.

Harry sighs. “Yes, I do like it.”

Louis leans in to kiss him, and Harry stops him.

“Louis, what about my…? Oh. My parents aren’t home.” He chuckles.

“You need to stop worrying so much,” Louis says. “You remind me of George McFly. _Before_ Marty changed the course of time and made his dad a cool guy.”

“Those are some harsh words, Lou.”

“You just need to lighten up a little! Marty always says that things are ‘heavy’. Lighten up, and nothing will be heavy anymore. Be a Marty McFly instead of a George McFly, and I guarantee your life will improve.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I guess that’s part of the reason I like having you around. You’re like my Marty, trying to change me from pre-time-travel George to post-time-travel George. Except that you give me kisses instead of encouraging unknowing-father-and-son exchanges.”

“I prefer the kissing.”

“As do I.”

Louis presses a brief kiss to his lips.

They continue listening to Louis’ music and talking together. It’s so nice to be able to spend this time with him.

When the second-to-last song on the album ends, Louis asks Harry if he knows how to ballroom dance.

“No. Why do you ask?” Harry responds.

“The last song is good for slow dancing.”

“What are you implying?”

Louis stands, then bows, holding a hand out to Harry. He looks up into his eyes. “May I have this dance?”

Harry blushes profusely and nods, then stands up. Louis places Harry's hand on his shoulder and Harry's other hand on his waist. Then, he puts his hands on Harry's waist.

“I apologize; I’m much better at the male part,” Louis says.

“That’s fine. Where did you learn how to dance like this?”

“When my mum teaches my sisters to dance, she makes me do the male part for them.”

“That’s really sweet.” Harry pauses. “You care about your sisters a lot, huh?”

“Yeah. They mean a lot to me. Do you want to twirl?”

Harry steps out, and Louis twirls him.

“ _I will wait for you / Like I always do / There’s something there / That can’t compare…_ ” Louis sings softly. He puts his head on Harry's shoulder.

“Are you sad?” Harry asks. “You look a little sad all of a sudden.”

“I’m just sad ‘cause this is our prom, y’know? We won’t get to slow dance at the prom.”

“Mhm. I kind of like this just as much, though. But, we could make a plan to get our families out of the house on prom night and have our own dance. We can even drink a little, to get in the spirit. Or, we could go to the party that Niall will inevitably throw after prom and lock ourselves in a room and dance. The possibilities are endless.”

Louis smiles. “Sounds like fun.”

The album ends.

“Do you want to maybe order some Chinese food and just hang for the rest of the night?” Louis suggests.

“Yes, please.”

Louis follows him downstairs, and Harry calls the nearest Chinese restaurant to order their food.

—

Long after the food is gone and Harry has already showered, Louis asks if he can use the shower. Harry says yes, of course, and he gets Louis a towel to use. He listens as the water turns on.

Rain pours down outside, as it’s done for the past hour or so. Soft thunder and lightning can be heard and seen every few seconds, but it’s soothing rather than scary.

Harry looks at his empty bed and decides that he can turn this night into something at least somewhat romantic for the two of them. He lights the scented candles he keeps in his room, even taking some from other parts of the house, and turns off his room’s lights. He steals his favorite perfume belonging to his mother and sprays it on the bed and a bit around the room.

Louis walks out of the bathroom with a towel hanging low on his hips and a small towel slung around his neck.

“What’s this?” he asks, gesturing around.

“Uh… a date?”

“A date?”

“Yeah. A date.”

Louis smiles. “Okay. What are we going to do on our date?”

“I thought we could cuddle and watch a film or two. I can get us some ice cream from the freezer, too, if you’re hungry.”

Louis' bright smile grows wider, and he gives Harry a (somewhat aggressive) hug. “You are the sweetest person on Earth, no doubts about it. I fucking love you.”

Harry blushes. “It’s just some candles. I love you, too, though.”

“Yeah, but it’s the fact that you even thought of it that counts.”

“That’s true, I guess.”

“Mhm. So, how about you go get the ice cream and I’ll put some clothes on and pick a film?”

“Gotcha.”

Harry leaves Louis to it, and he grabs them a few small tubs of ice cream to share. Then, Harry goes upstairs to join him.

—

After they've finished _The Outsiders_ , Harry sees that it’s around 11:00PM. It’s pitch-black and storming outside, and he and Louis snuggle close together in the bed. They're bundled up in sweaters and joggers, and they’re keeping each other warm as they lean against the headboard. Harry playing with Louis' hair. Louis looks like how people look in films, where the focus on the camera is soft and the people’s eyes sparkle in the moonlight.

“What were you drawing earlier?” Louis inquires. “When I was singing to George Michael.”

Harry reluctantly gets up and gets his notebook. Inside, Louis sees the drawing of him as George Michael in the “Faith” video.

“This is cute. You should draw me more,” he comments.

Harry snickers. “I have _so_ many drawings of you, especially from before we started dating.” He flips through the book and shows Louis drawings of him as Han Solo, Ferris Bueller, Maverick from _Top Gun_ , Duckie from _Pretty In Pink_ , and more. There are a few little comic strips of potential music videos for Louis’ songs, as well.

“These are amazing! I wish you’d shown me these before.”

“What would I say? ‘Hey, I know we’re just friends, but here’s where I doodled a picture of us holding hands with hearts around it in my notebook’?”

“Touché.”

“You know… you should write a song about me sometime.”

Louis’ jaw drops. “You think I haven’t already?!”

“Have you?”

“Every song I’ve ever played for you has been about you!”

“Shut up. You can’t be serious!”

“I am, I swear!” He runs over to his suitcase and grabs his journal, then sits next to Harry. “’Stand Up’? It’s about falling for someone and wanting to be with them after the first meeting. I wrote that one shortly after we met.” He flips a page. “And ‘One Thing’? The ‘one thing’ in the song is that you’re a boy. Even ‘Hey Angel’ was about you.”

Harry finds himself blushing just a little.

“Don’t even get me _started_ on ‘Something Great’. That was the first really personal song I’d ever written about you.”

“…That one was about _me_?”

“Of course. That bullshit I told you about it just being a story was to cover for myself.”

Harry whistles. “Wow. That’s heavy, man.”

“I guess so.”

Harry cuddles closer to him and closes his eyes.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” Louis asks softly. His voice is raspy and tired.

“Mhm. I’ve gotta blow out the candles that are still burning, though.”

“I can do it. You lie down.”

“Thank you.”

Harry pulls his jumper off and lies on his side. Shortly after, he feels Louis’ warm body next to his. Louis wraps one arm around him and uses the other to play with his hair.

“I love your curls,” Louis tells him. “You should wear your hair without product more often so everyone can see them.”

“I prefer to save them for your eyes only. Then, it’s special. Only you get to see them.”

“I suppose you’ve got a point.”

Louis kisses the back of his neck. “Get some sleep, now.”

“Alright.”

Minutes pass. Harry tells Louis he can’t sleep.

“I’ll sing you to sleep. D’you like The Smiths?”

“Haven’t really heard of ‘em.”

“I’ll sing them anyway.”

Harry listens to the sound of Louis' voice and to the lyrics. _Haven’t had a dream in a long time / Seems the luck I’ve had can make a good man bad / So, for once in my life / Let me get what I want…_

Harry drifts off to the sound of his voice.

* * *

November 24th, 1987

Louis sits down with Harry and Liam at their lunch table. Today’s the last day of the school week before they get a bit of a break for Thanksgiving. Louis is mostly excited to sneak off with Harry while their parents inevitably go to some neighbor’s Thanksgiving dinner.

His plans soon change when Liam asks, “Would you guys like to come to Thanksgiving at my house?”

“Huh?” Harry asks. His green eyes are wide.

“I just…” Liam blushes. Louis has always thought Liam was kinda cute. “I thought you guys didn’t have anywhere to go on Thanksgiving, since you aren’t American. Do you have Thanksgiving at your houses?”

Louis and Harry shake their heads.

“Then, um, yeah. You can come to my house. It’s going to snow a lot in New York – where part of my extended family lives – and they’re not going to be able to make it out here this year, so we have a couple of empty seats at our dining table. If you want to bring a pie or some cranberry sauce, too, that’d be cool.”

“I’d love to come,” Louis says.

“Me, too,” Harry agrees.

Liam smiles brighter than Louis has ever seen him smile. “Thanks, guys. It means a lot.” He stares sheepishly at his lap. “You guys are really good friends.” It seems to Louis like Liam hasn’t had many good friends before, which makes him feel even better about wanting to go.

Louis looks across the table at Harry. “Are you up for some baking tomorrow?”

“You bet I am.”

Liam grins again.

* * *

November 25th, 1987

“Louis, I thought I told you to watch the pie,” Harry scolds.

Louis starts to panic, though he tries not to let it show. “I… was watching the pie.” In reality, he was watching MTV.

“Lou.”

“Harry.”

He crosses his arms. “If you were watching the pie, then why do I see smoke coming from your oven?”

Louis jumps up and turns to look at him. “Seriously?!”

“No, not seriously. But, from what I can smell, it’s definitely burnt.”

Coughing, Louis and Harry extract the burnt apple pie from the oven.

“Aw, man. I’m sorry, Harry,” Louis apologizes. “And we ran out of cinnamon while we were baking this, so I’ll have to run out and get some more.”

At this time, his mum walks downstairs.

“What’s this?” she asks. “Did you burn the pie?”

“I did,” Louis answers sheepishly. “And we’re out of cinnamon.”

His mother tsks at him. “I was just about to go out; I’ll get you some more and you can try again, okay?”

He nods. She leaves.

Louis' sisters are upstairs, and now that both of his parents are gone, he sees this as an opportunity to mess with Harry. (It’s kinda mean, but he  _loves_ messing with Harry.)

“Oi, Harry.” He runs his tongue along his upper lip. “Now that my parents are gone, we can… _fool around_ ,” he whispers in Harry's ear.

“I dunno, I feel like we should get the ingredients back ou—what… what on _Earth_ are you doing?”

Louis has begun to press slow, lazy kisses to Harry's jaw and neck.

“Fooling around,” he answers.

Harry bites his lip, holding back a smile. His cheeks are pink. Louis puts his hand under his sweater and, very slowly, trails his index finger down Harry's torso.

“I swear, if you’re… messing with me again…” He closes his eyes and takes a sharp breath in when Louis' finger reaches a spot right underneath his bellybutton, where it’s at the waistline of his jeans.

Louis grabs the belt loops of Harry's jeans and pulls him closer, and Harry reopens his eyes. It’s taking all of Louis' concentration not to burst out laughing, and he silently thanks himself for taking those acting classes freshman year. “Why would I be messing with you?”

Once again, Harry bites back a big grin. Louis can tell Harry’s trying not to let him see that he’s enjoying this. A while ago when Louis tried this, Harry really wasn’t in the mood, and Louis had to give up early on so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable.

“You shouldn’t bite your lip so much,” Louis says. He runs a hand through his hair and looks him right in the eyes. “I can’t kiss you if your lip is bleeding.”

Harry sighs, and he can’t help smiling and averting his gaze away from Louis. “Why… are you so horny…?”

Louis lets his arms fall to his sides, and he shrugs. There’s a _huge_ grin on his face. “I’m not. I’m totally screwing with you.”

“ _L_ _ouis!_ ” Harry hits his arm lightly. “I fucking hate you!” His still-flushed cheeks and the bulge in his pants tell Louis otherwise.

“You totally fell for it!”

“I was just… uh… flustered!”

“Tell that to your boner! You were ready to let me pin you up against a wall and tear your clothes off.” Louis is laughing so hard he barely manages to get coherent words out.

“I… maybe I was, but it was still mean!”

“You’re just so easy to mess with!”

“’Easy to mess with’ – we’ll see about that.” Unexpectedly, Harry picks him up and throws him over his shoulder.

“I deserved that.” Louis can feel the blood rushing to his head.

“Mhm.”

“Can you put me down now?”

“Nope.” Louis can almost _hear_ him grinning like a maniac.

He doesn’t bother protesting as Harry gets all of the pie ingredients back out from throughout the kitchen, and Louis helps him if he can’t remember where things are.

Suddenly, the door to the house opens. Harry throws Louis onto the tiled floor.

“What was that noise?” Louis' mum asks.

Louis makes sure Harry sees him. Then, he flips him off with both hands and mouths the words, ‘Fuck you’.

“I’m alright; I just fell!” Louis calls out to his mum. Harry’s laughing so hard he can barely breathe.

“Okay. I brought the cinnamon.”

She sets the cinnamon on the counter, and Louis gets up.

“Ready for Pie #2?” Harry asks after catching his breath.

“I think so. I promise, I won’t leave the kitchen this time.”

“Good. Let’s go, then.”

* * *

November 26th, 1987

Liam opens the door to his house wearing a plaid button-down shirt and jeans. He sees Louis and Harry and grins.

“You came!” he exclaims.

“And we brought apple pie,” Harry adds, handing Liam the pie they made.

“Thanks! Come on in – we have a coat rack if you’d like to put it to use. Also, a warning: my family from Indianapolis can be a little…” He grimaces. “…Harsh? I think that’s the right word. Anyway, I apologize in advance for anything they might say.”

Louis hangs his jacket and scarf up.

“You look cute,” he comments to Harry. “I like this sweater on you.”

“Thanks. You’re lookin’ good, too, sweet cheeks.” Harry exaggerates a wink and lightly hits Louis' bum with his hand.

“Harry, there are _people_ here!” Louis whispers.

“Yeah, but the thing is, none of them saw that.” He smiles goofily and goes to take a seat at the dinner table.

—

The Thanksgiving meal is lovely. Louis has never seen so much food at one table – and you should see his house at Christmastime. There’s more than enough turkey, pies, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and sparkling apple cider to go around. (Harry thought they weren’t allowed to drink the cider at first, but Louis told him that most cider doesn’t have alcohol in it in America.)

Liam looks delighted to have Louis and Harry there, and Louis sits between his two friends at the table while he stuffs himself. Liam’s family asks he and Harry questions about where they’re from, where we want to go to uni (he and Harry are both taking a gap year, which the adults didn’t seem to understand the point of), and other questions like that.

It’s after the meal is over that the conversation starts to shift into something not-so-pleasant.

“Did you hear about that law the A.M.A. passed a couple weeks ago?” a woman, whom Louis believes to be Liam’s grandma, says. “Doctors _have_ to treat _anyone_ with AIDS now.”

“Even homosexuals?” someone (Liam’s uncle?) asks. Louis shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand why they’re making such a big fuss about this,” Liam’s aunt adds. “Why don’t they just let the fags die out? They can’t infect anyone else if they’re dead.”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Harry says abruptly. He gets up and goes off to find someplace quiet.

“I’m going to… also go to the bathroom.” Unable to think of another excuse, Louis gets up to go follow Harry. In the background as he leaves, he hears Liam say, “That was really rude – gay people are people, too, you guys…”

Harry sits in the bathroom, crying a little.

“Babe…” Louis sits down next to him. “It’s gonna be okay. Fuck what any of those people have to say, alright? We deserve to be here just as much as they do. Probably _more_ than they do.”

The door slowly opens to the bathroom. Liam pokes his head inside.

“I’m really sorry about that,” he apologizes. “And I’m really sorry that it made you upset.”

Harry nods. “I, uh… had a friend… who was gay. A family friend. And he… he died. From AIDS.”

Louis looks at Harry and mouths, ‘Don’t make up things like that, Harry.’

‘I’m not making it up,’ he mouths back. Then, he continues. “He came out a little while before I left England, and he got AIDS not that long after. He died about a year ago.” He sniffles. “He was 27. My parents…” Harry sighs heavily. “They didn’t want me to tell anyone that, when we went to Holmes Chapel last year for winter holiday, part of the reason we were going was to attend Jack’s funeral. They didn’t want anyone knowing that we had a gay family friend.”

Louis hugs him again, this time tighter than before. “I’m so sorry.”

“Again, I’m really sorry, too,” Liam says. “About all of this. I told you, my family can get… pretty offensive.”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry tells him. “You can’t control what they say.”

He nods. “If it means anything, though, I’m so glad you guys came to this dinner. Last time I invited friends to my house… oh, I don’t want to bother you with my ‘tragic life story.’”

“Tell us,” Louis says. “You can, if you’d like.”

“I… well, I invited some friends to my 16th birthday party sophomore year and no one showed up. It really, really sucked.”

“Those guys don’t deserve your time, anyway. Fuck ‘em.”

Liam chuckles halfheartedly. “Thanks. Would you guys like to grab your jackets? It’s getting late.”

Louis help Harry up, and we make our way out to my car.

* * *

December 13th, 1987

“I invited Liam over to study with us at 10:30,” Harry tells Louis, “which means that, since it’s almost 10:00, we have a half hour to do whatever we want.”

“’Whatever we want,’ huh?”

“Yep. I thought we could start getting out our notes and sorting everything—”

“Harry.”

“What?”

“Can’t you think of anything better to do with a half hour of free time?”

“We have finals in less than a week, though.”

“You’ve been stressing out over finals for, like, three weeks. Enough is enough. Take a break!”

Harry huffs and takes a seat next to him on the bed. “Okay. I guess I’d rather hang with you than study, anyway.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Harry smiles and cups Louis' face in his hands. “Have I ever told you how stunning you are?”

“You have now. And probably, like, a million times before.”

“Just making sure you knew. Hey, I forgot to ask earlier – do you want to come on holiday with my family? I know yours is staying in town this year, but my parents said I could invite you. We’re going to Flagstaff, in Arizona.”

“Hm. Sounds fun.”

“We’d get our own hotel room…”

Louis smiles. “ _Definitely_ sounds fun.”

With his hands still gently holding his face, Harry kisses him. He wraps his arms around Harry's waist.

“Hang on,” Harry interrupts. “We really shouldn’t. I have to pass my exams, Lou. _You_ have to pass your exams.”

“ _Harry_. You need to take a chill pill. No more studying until Liam gets here, okay?”

Harry attempts to hide the grin that’s forming on his face. “Fine.”

Louis kisses him again, and Harry tries to ease the tension that’s built up in his body from finals stress. (Kissing really helps.)

Minutes pass before Harry hears a sudden thud. He looks up and gasps.

Liam stands in the doorway, mouth agape, backpack fallen onto the floor. All he can manage to say is, “ _No_. _Fucking_. _Way_.”

Harry's honestly never seen anyone as shocked as Liam looks right now, but he has bigger issues to worry about, like the fact that he and Louis' relationship – which has been a secret to the entire world for almost 6 months – has now been blatantly outed to Liam.

“How long has _this_ —” He gestures wildly between Harry and his boyfriend “—been happening?!”

Harry shifts away from Louis and looks at him. “I guess we have to ‘fess up.” He faces Liam. “Since July.”

“Oh, my God. Oh, my fucking _God_!”

“You can’t tell a single soul,” Louis threatens. “You are the first person to know about this, and if you fuck it up, Harry and I’ll be fucked. So will you. Got it?”

“Totally. I won’t tell anyone, I swear. I… wow. I can’t believe this. You’ve kept it from your parents?”

Harry nods.

“Damn. I really can’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” Harry says with a smile. Then, he frowns. “How come you got here so early? I thought I told you 10:30.”

Liam shakes his head. “You told me 10:00.”

Harry looks at Louis apologetically. “I’m sorry, Lou. I didn’t know.”

“That’s okay.” He kisses him briefly. “Just be grateful it wasn’t our parents.”

“That would’ve been a nightmare. On a different note…” Harry gets up. “Liam is here. Time to study.”

Louis groans, but Harry forces him to pick up his English notecards and start reading them out loud to him.

* * *

December 24th, 1987

Louis rubs his eyes as he walks out of he and Harry’s hotel room. They meet Harry's parents in the hallway and head towards the lobby.

“Sorry I woke you from your nap,” Harry says. “My parents made me wake you for birthday-slash-Christmas-Eve dinner.”

“That’s alright.” Louis' voice is kind of raspy from his nap.

“Do you want your present now or at dinner?” he asks.

“At dinner.”

“Harry, I told you already to wait until dinner to offer him his present,” his mum scolds.

“Sorry, Mum.” He makes a face as a mockery of her, which makes Louis snicker.

Harry’s parents take them to a fancy restaurant, and they eat a lovely meal there. Harry playfully makes hidden moves on Louis while he eats, doing things like nudging Louis' foot with his own.

“Can I _please_ give Louis his present now?” Harry begs once they’ve finished dessert.

“I guess so.” His mum takes a little package out of her purse and hands it to him, and he hands it to me. I carefully rip the wrapping paper off and look at the package inside.

“You got me a new cassette player?!”

“It’s really nothing,” Harry tells him, though he’s blushing. “I know your old one broke a couple weeks ago, and this one comes with new headphones that are way better than your crappy ones, so it just seemed like a good present.”

“Thank you!”

Louis gives him the biggest bear hug he can manage.

Later, when they arrive back to their room, Louis tells Harry that he's got a little surprise for him, too.

“What kind of surprise?” Harry asks, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Just a small one. Don’t get your hopes up, or you’ll be disappointed.”

Louis walks over to his nightstand and takes out a wrapped candy cane, complete with a bow. Then, he plants his feet at a spot between the two beds in their room.

“Here’s a candy cane. Happy Christmas!” he says.

Harry strides towards him and takes the candy, smiling.

“Also, I put mistletoe on the ceiling while you were sleeping.”

Harry beams. His smile is radiant. He begins pressing kisses all over Louis' cheeks, which makes him blush.

“Happy Christmas,” he tells Louis  at last. “We’ve gotta find a way back to England together so you can buy us some champagne.”

“Oh, my God. That totally slipped my mind,” Louis says. “I like being 18.”

He chuckles. “I like you being 18.”

After a pause, Louis looks up and says, “I’m going to need a real kiss under this mistletoe, now.” He taps his lips with his index finger.

Harry kisses him almost immediately, which catches him off-guard and causes him to blush even more.

“That one was good. A fitting birthday present.”

“I’m glad.” He takes a deep breath. “Well, I’ve gotta take a shower, if you’ll excuse me – but maybe we can cuddle a bit afterwards?” Harry tilts his head to the side like a puppy.

“Sure thing, babe.”

“Alright. See you in a few minutes!”

He disappears into the bathroom.

* * *

December 31st, 1987

“I can’t _believe_ you got us out of going to that New Year’s celebration in the town square,” Louis says, shaking my head. The lights are soft and dim in the room, and night has fallen. The hotel is pretty quiet, since everyone is out partying. “Those were some literal magic powers you were displaying. I’m pretty sure you actually used the fucking Force on your parents.”

“I am well-versed in the ways of the Jedi,” Harry replies in a dramatic tone.

“I hate that your nerdy movie references just make me want to kiss you more.”

He drops his jumper to the floor, and Harry pushes him up against the wall.

“Good thing I want to kiss you, too, then.”

Their lips meet, and soon they’re all over each other. Harry’s lips are soft, but slightly chapped from the cold air. Louis reaches his hands up underneath the back of his sweater, feeling how warm he is. (Harry always feels like a furnace.)

Louis wants to be even closer to him. He begins to tug upward on the hem of Harry's sweater. Harry gets the idea and shifts away from him so that Louis can take the sweater off. He tosses it onto the floor, and Harry does the same for him.

They continue to snog, and they stumble as they try to get each other’s trousers off. It’s not long before they’re pressed up against each other on the bed, making out in their underwear. Their breathing is heavy, and the air feels much warmer than it did when they first stepped into it.

“Louis,” Harry says, out of breath. He gently pushes Louis' hair away from his face.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to, like… go all the way?”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “You want to have sex?”

“Yeah. Only if you want to, though.”

Louis blushes a little. “I want to, but what about your parents?”

Harry shakes his head. “They don’t have a key to our room, and they aren’t even right next door – they’re a couple doors down.”

“And what about condoms?”

“I have some in my suitcase.”

“I do, too. And you’re sure about this?”

A smile tugs at the corners of Harry's lips. “Yes. And you?”

Louis grins. “I’m sure.”

Harry starts towards his suitcase.


	4. 1988

January 1st, 1988

Harry doesn’t know what time it is, but it’s definitely still dark out and it’s definitely past midnight. He and Louis are lying under the covers, fully undressed and facing each other. Their legs are tangled together. Louis is playing with Harry's hair, running his fingers through it and tucking it behind his ears. Harry finds it very calming. Neither of them has spoken in a little while. It’s nice, existing together.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I love when you let your hair curl freely like this,” Louis says quietly after many minutes of silence.

“I love that you love it.” Harry sighs, then chuckles to himself. “Tonight was fun. Maybe we should have sex again sometime.”

“Maybe we should.” Louis looks at him and his brow creases. “I left a hickey a little too high up on your neck. You’ll have to wear a scarf for a few days.”

“Worth it.”

Louis hums contentedly.

“Remember a long time ago when we did the game where we ask each other questions?” Harry asks. “We should do that again.”

“Okay. You can go first.”

“Do you… hm… d’you ever feel bad about being gay?”

“No, not really. Do you?”

“Sometimes. But… then I remember how much I love you, and how much you love me, and it makes me feel better. Your turn.”

“I just asked if you ever felt bad about being gay," Louis says. "It’s your turn.”

“Oh. Do you have any regrets?”

“I regret not telling you I was gay sooner.”

That makes Harry smile.

Louis asks, “Have you ever had a crush on anyone else?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Don’t get _too_ jealous, but there was this boy named Charlie in year six who had the best smile, and little 11-year-old me thought he was the dreamiest person I’d ever meet. 11-year-old me was _very_ wrong; I almost swooned the first time I saw you.” He pauses, waiting for Louis to go, then realize it’s his turn again. “If you had one wish, and you could wish for anything in the entire world, what would you use it for?”

Louis barely hesitates before saying, “I’d wish that we could get married.”

Harry's eyes widen. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” He really doesn’t look like he’s messing around. “Wouldn’t you like to get married?”

“Yes, but we’re very young,” Harry points out.

“That doesn’t matter if you know you love someone.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Think about it – if we could get married right now, would you do it?”

“Is this, like, a proposal?”

Harry shouldn’t have said that – he can tell he's put a crazy idea into Louis' head now.

“Yes!” Louis exclaims.

Harry can’t believe what Louis is saying, but he plays along. He lets Louis hold both of his hands in his own.

“I may have no rings, no clothes on, and no way for us to actually get married,” Louis starts. “But a man can dream. So, if it ever becomes legal… Harry Styles, will you marry me?”

Harry's heart is pounding like a drum, and he's pretty sure it skips a beat here and there. Louis is really being serious.

“This is probably the maddest thing you’ve ever forced me to participate in, but, uh… yes, I’ll marry you.”

Louis wraps his arms around Harry's neck and showers him with kisses all over his face.

“I love you, too,” Harry says, giggling.

“We’ll play ‘Wouldn’t It Be Nice’ by the Beach Boys at our wedding.”

Harry starts to hum the words. “ _Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older / Then we wouldn’t have to wait so long_.”

Louis sings softly with him. “ _And wouldn’t it be nice to live together / In the kind of world where we belong_.”

He closes his eyes and sighs. “It’s perfect.”

“You’re a bit sleepy, aren’t you?” Louis inquires.

“I’m perfectly awake.” Harry tries to hide his yawn.

“You are definitely not ‘perfectly awake’. Get some sleep, babe.”

Eyes still closed, Harry grabs his arm. “Only if you go to sleep, too, darling.”

“Babe.”

“Sweetheart.”

“Okay, okay. Enough pet names – time to go to sleep. We should put our pajamas on in case your parents come knocking in the morning.”

“ _Ugh._ ”

Harry grabs his pajamas. They’re folded on the nightstand from the night before.

At last, after getting dressed, they climb back into bed. Louis wraps his arms around Harry.

“Hey, Lou?”

“Mhm?”

“No more wild ideas while we sleep. The marriage proposal was enough for one day.”

“Deal. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Harry whispers a last goodnight before slipping away.

* * *

January 4th, 1988

Louis scoots onto the bench next to Harry at their lunch table. Today is the first day of second semester, but it’s something else, too.

“Guess what day it is?” Louis asks, beaming.

“I’m way ahead of you.” Harry holds up a handmade card that says, ‘Happy 6 Months!’ on it. There’s a drawing of Louis giving a thumbs-up underneath the caption.

“Shit! I didn’t get you anything.”

“You remembered our 6-month anniversary but you didn’t get me anything? How out-of-character.”

“I’m totally taking the piss; I got you some chocolate,” Louis says, handing him a little box.

“Thank you! Happy 6 months.”

“Happy 6 months.”

Harry goes to the bathroom, leaving Louis and Liam alone. Louis whistles happily as he opens his lunchbox and takes his food out. He stares longingly after Harry as he eats.

“I know it’s, like, your anniversary, but I’ve never seen you like this, Louis,” Liam comments. “You’re all loved up.”

Louis nods, half-paying attention to him and half-thinking about seeing Harry tonight after he finishes work at the cinema. (And, though it's been a few days, Louis is also kind of still thinking about the great sex.) He and Harry are going to listen to music at Louis' house and hopefully find time to make out.

Liam looks like he’s had a revelation. “You guys fucked, didn’t you?!”

Louis snaps out of his trance and feels himself blushing. “I… w-we didn’t… that’s none of your business, Liam.” He stares at his lap, trying to contain a nervous smile.

Liam grins smugly. “You guys _totally_ fucked. It’s the only thing that would make you act like that.”

“Keep your voice down, Liam, the whole cafeteria doesn’t need to know that Harry and I are dating,” he says, his voice hushed.

“Regardless,” he continues, voice lower, “I’m right. How was it?”

“Liam!”

“What?”

“That is Harry and I’s personal business!”

“So you _did_ fuck!”

Louis blushes even more. “Stop using ‘fuck’ to describe it, it makes it sound vulgar.”

“So you _made love_?”

He feigns a choking sound. “Gag me with a _spoon_ , I _hate_ that phrase.”

“What phrase? ‘Making love’?”

“Yes, that one. All I’ll say to answer your question is that it was fun.”

“That’s all I wanted to know. I’m happy for you guys.”

Harry returns.

“Oh, my God, Harry, save me,” Louis begs. “Liam’s prying.”

“About what?”

“He wanted to know if we had sex over the holiday, and then he asked how it was.”

Harry’s entire face turns pink. “ _Liam_!”

“It’s alright, Louis already told me it sucked,” Liam responds, cracking himself up. Harry’s eyelids fly up. Louis wishes he could use the Force to strangle Liam right about now.

He looks at Harry. “I definitely did _not_ say that. I said it was fun!”

“He really did. I’m just messing with you.”

Harry seems to calm down after that.

Louis sees Niall strutting over to their table, wearing an expensive-looking coat and sunglasses. When he reaches them, he slides the sunglasses down on his nose so that they can see his eyes.

“Are you guys, like, down for a party?” he asks.

“When?” Louis asks.

“No idea.”

“How can you be having a party if you don’t know when it’ll be?”

“No idea.”

“How high are you?” Harry mumbles. Louis chuckles.

“I’m… not high,” Niall responds, but Louis could swear he winks at them. “The party can be… uh… next Friday night.”

“The 15th?”

“Yeah, man! Sounds rad.”

“Great. I’ll let you know if I can come.”

“You two’d better be there, too.” He points at Liam and Harry, and they nod.

Niall slides the sunglasses back up onto his face and swaggers away.

“How does he always look so _cool_?” Liam asks.

“It’s definitely the expensive clothes,” Harry answers. “In high school, money makes you look pretty damn cool.”

The three of them nod in unison and watch as he goes.

* * *

January 15th, 1988

The party is loud and crowded, just like Niall’s parties always are. Rock ‘n roll plays from throughout the house. Harry tries to stay close to Louis so he doesn’t get lost in the chaos.

They've been there for at least an hour or two, though Harry can’t find any clocks, so he has no idea what time it is. Niall walks towards him, obviously intoxicated.

“Y’know, Harry… you never play any drinking games!” Niall says to him. “Even your friend Lo… Lou… Lucy? Louis! Even Louis played beer pong one time. You should join.”

“I’m not much of a drinker,” Harry tells him.

“C’mon…” Niall puts his arm around Harry's shoulders. He smells like alcohol. “Just one?”

“…I’ll play _one_ drinking game,” Harry decides.

“Yes!” Niall turns to a group of his rowdy friends. “Harry’s gonna do a kegstand, guys!”

Harry doesn’t know what the _fuck_ that is, but it sounds terrible. Soon, he's doing a handstand on a beer keg and two brawny jocks are holding his legs in the air.

“Don’t worry, I chose a light beer for you,” Niall whispers to him. “And, these guys are so fucking drunk that they’ll never know how much you drank, so just lie about how much you had when you’re done.”

He pats Harry on the back and hands him the keg tap. Harry can feel his blood rushing to his head.

“Go!”

The crowd of guys cheers as Harry chugs, and he feels himself slipping away…

—

“Niall! Niall, I lost Harry a while ago, have you got any idea where he is?!” Louis asks. A cigarette that’s burned out hangs from his lips.

“He did a kegstand about 20 minutes ago. I dunno where he is now.” Niall shrugs and walks away.

“He did _what_?!” Louis yells, but Niall’s already gone.

Louis hears a gasp. “ _Louuuis!_ ”

_Oh, dear._

Harry’s not _totally_ out if it - not to the point where he's ralphing or anything - but he’s definitely drunk off his ass. He’s giggling and stumbling even more than usual.

“Oh, Harry… what did they do to you, love?”

He puts his arm around Louis' shoulders. “I was… upside down! And then there was beer! _Lots_ of beer!”

 _Poor thing_ , Louis thinks.

“I’m going to take you home now, okay? I think you’ve had enough excitement for tonight.”

“But I want to _stay_!” Harry says, hiccuping at the end of the sentence.

“Sorry, mate, but it’s for the best.”

“Can I say goodbye to Niall? _Please_?” He pouts and flashes Louis puppy dog eyes.

“Sure.”

“NIALL!” he yells. Louis covers his ears. Somehow, Niall heard him over the music and comes towards them.

“Thank you…” Harry hiccups. “For the beer!”

“You’re welcome.” Niall’s grinning madly. “Take care of him, ‘kay Lucas?”

Louis nods, ignoring the inebriated boy's error. He drives Harry home and gets him to go quietly upstairs with him.

“Okay, Harry,” Louis says once he's taken Harry into the bathroom, “can you take your clothes off and take a shower?”

Harry starts pulling his shirt off. “It’s ‘cause you want to _screw me_ , isn’t it?” he giggles. He begins to unbutton his pants and stares seductively at Louis, who shakes his head aggressively.

“ _Totally not_ while you’re like this. I’ll reconsider the offer when you aren’t drunk, though. And, uh, I can leave if you’d like me to…” Harry’s about to pull his underwear off.

Harry shrugs and steps behind the shower curtain, even though the shower is already running and is probably still cold, and _then_ takes his underwear off where Louis can’t see him. He throws the wet garment onto the floor, and it lands at Louis' feet. Louis smacks his palm against his forehead.

“Can you sit down in there? Just so I know you won’t slip?” he asks.

He hears a soft thud.

“I’m sitting.”

“Okay. Good. Make sure you brush your teeth before you come out of the bathroom."

"Mhm."

While Harry’s in there (hopefully he’s doing alright), Louis puts his discarded clothes into Harry's dirty clothes bin.

Harry emerges from the bathroom and enters his room unharmed, with a towel around his waist. It’s hanging dangerously low on his hips, and Louis tries to redirect his thoughts. Now isn’t the time.

“Harry, I’m going to need you to go to sleep now,” he tells him. “We can’t have your parents finding out about this.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” Harry replies, turning away from Louis and dropping the towel so that he can put on a clean pair of underwear. Louis can see the _entire_ back half of his body, and the view definitely isn't bad. Harry's making it very hard for Louis to stay concentrated on the task at hand.

“You have to, darling.”

“I like it when you call me ‘darling.’” Now fully dressed in his pajamas, Harry takes a seat next to Louis on the bed. “We should _snooog._ ”

“We can’t do that. You’re drunk.”

Harry pouts. “Fine. I’ll sleep.”

“Thank you.”

He gets under the covers, and as soon as his head hits the pillow, he passes out. He begins to snore lightly, and he looks so peaceful.

Louis sighs, relieved. He kisses Harry's forehead and wishes him goodnight, then makes his way home.

* * *

January 18th, 1988

“Louis!”

He turns around, and Harry runs to catch up with him in the hallway.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Thank you for getting me home and everything on Friday when I was drunk. I only remember bits and pieces, but I know I was really horny and kept coming on to you, but you didn’t reciprocate any of my, er… advances.”

They take their seats in their next class.

“So, uh… yeah. I know you were just being you, and being a good person, but thanks for not taking advantage of my trust. It means a lot.”

Louis nods. “Anything for you.”

“Also, thank you _so much_ for making me shower and brush my teeth and everything. I would’ve been caught if you hadn’t done that.” He clears his throat. “Did I… do anything stupid while I was undressed?”

Louis laughs, which makes Harry nervous. “You stepped into the shower with your underwear still on and threw the wet underwear out of the shower. And you dropped your towel in the middle of the room and flashed me your entire ass, but that’s it.”

“Oh, my God…” Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m a disgrace. I’m never playing a drinking game at one of Niall’s parties again.”

“Why did you even _do_ a kegstand?”

“I told Niall I’d play one drinking game, and I thought it would just be beer pong or something, and next thing I knew I was upside down.”

Louis shakes his head. Then, the bell rings, and class begins.

* * *

February 14th, 1988

It’s a white Valentine’s Day this year, with a big snowfall that came in last night. Everything is covered in snow, and it’s very pretty. (Perfect for the occasion.) Louis slipped Harry a note in English class a few days ago telling him to meet him at their spot behind the school, even though they don’t have school today. They found this spot a while ago, and it has just enough trees and coverage around it that no one could find them there. They usually go there when they haven’t had any alone time in a _long_ time and need to kiss a bit to resolve the tension.

Today, Louis is all bundled up with a sweater and a beanie and everything. Harry wears the hat that his gran knitted for him. He wears it only because Louis thinks Harry looks _adorable_ in it. It’s green and has little tassels and a pom-pom on the top.

“You wore the hat that I like!” Louis exclaims.

“Just for you,” he replies, walking towards Louis through the snow. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” They hug.

“I got you something.” Harry reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box of candy hearts. “It’s cause you’re my _sweetheart_.”

Louis rolls his eyes at the pun, but he smiles and thanks him anyway. Harry opens the box and says, “You’ll have to come and get one, though.”

He puts a heart on the end of his tongue and sticks it out so Louis can see. It says ‘KISS ME’ on it in red lettering.

“Someone’s feeling cheeky today,” Louis points out. He doesn’t think Harry was expecting him to actually kiss him, but he does, and that earns a muffled yelp from him.

When he pulls away, Louis sticks his tongue out so Harry can see he's taken the candy from him, then eats it. Harry hands Louis the box, and he’s blushing.

“I got you this, too.” He reaches into his backpack and hands Louis a thin book. “It’s a mini comic book I made of us going to dinner last year on Valentine’s Day and saying all those mushy things about loving and caring about each other. This one has all of our inner thoughts that we didn’t say, though, and it ends with us kissing on _this_ Valentine’s Day.”

“Harry…” Louis flips through it. There are around 5 pages of comics in there. “Thank you. This is the best gift I could’ve gotten.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

They kiss, and Louis gives him another big hug.

“I forgot my present,” Louis says into Harry's shoulder. “I’ll come over to your place later and give it to you, okay? After work.”

“Okay. I have work, too.”

They stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, and Louis wishes they could stay there forever.

“I’ll see you later, alright?” he tells Harry.

He nods. Louis kisses his cheek and walks away.

—

It’s around 11:00PM. Harry hasn’t seen Louis since he gave him his Valentine’s Day presents after school, and he's kind of worried. He's been waiting all night for Louis, watching _Family Ties_ and MTV in his pajamas. Harry thinks he may have fallen asleep a couple times.

Louis definitely wouldn’t ditch him, so he ruled out that option hours ago. Maybe he got in trouble and got grounded. Maybe his parents didn’t want him going out tonight. _But wouldn’t he have called if that were the case…?_

Whatever it is, it’s worrying the hell out of Harry.

He waits for another hour and hears nothing. No phone call, no doorbell ringing, no knock on the door – nothing.

Suddenly, he thinks he hears a rapid knock. _Am I hallucinating?_

The knock sounds again. Harry gets up and walks to the door, then opens it up.

There stands Louis, a complete mess of tears and shaking hands and puffy, red eyes.

“Louis, what _hap—_?!”

Louis wraps his arms around Harry's waist and begins to sob into his shoulder. Harry hugs him, putting a comforting hand on the back of his head.

“What happened to you?” he asks softly.

“They f-found it – everything – th-they know!”

“Who knows what?”

He pulls away and tries to compose himself. Harry's never seen him like this. In fact, he's never seen _anyone_ as distraught as Louis is right now.

“My p-p-parents… they… they k-kicked me out.”

“ _What_?!”

Louis starts to cry again, and Harry hugs him once more.

“They found _everything_! They f-found my g-gifts for you, and my n-n-notebook with doodles of our names together in it, my s-songs about you… they _know_. They said I h-had until… until the end of the day t-t-to pack my things and go. They _know_ , H-Harry.”

Harry feels his heart drop at the broken way Louis says his name and at the realization that _Louis'_ _parents found out he’s gay_. And they _kicked him out_.

“Louis,” Harry says firmly.

He looks up at him.

“You’re going to help me get all your things from your car and take them up to my sister’s old room, okay? Then we can sort this all out.”

Louis nods.

—

It takes them twenty minutes to get Louis' things upstairs, and they manage to do it without waking anyone else. Harry had Louis take a shower and put his pajamas on in an attempt to clean him up, but it didn’t work very well because he’s still sobbing. He’s a complete wreck.

They sit on Harry's bed, huddled together. Louis is sitting in Harry's lap and crying into his chest, and Harry's got his arms around him, running his hands through his damp hair. Harry's been saying encouraging words to him this whole time, but nothing seems to work. He can’t think of anything that will help.

Then, he  _does_ think of something.

“ _Hey, Lou_ …” he begins to sing. “ _Don’t make it bad / Take a sad song and make it better_ / _Remember to let her into your heart / Then you can start to make it better._ ”

He can’t tell if it’s working or not, but he keeps singing to see if it’ll do any good.

“ _Hey, Lou / Don’t be afraid / You were made to go out and get her / The minute you let her under your skin / Then you begin to make it better_.”

It’s definitely working. The loud sobs and shaking have subdued to simple crying, so Harry keeps going.

“ _And anytime you feel the pain / Hey, Lou, refrain / Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders / For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool / By making his world a little colder._ ”

Louis is still crying, but it’s not as bad as it was, so Harry stops.

“Please keep singing,” Louis mumbles after he realizes Harry's stopped.

“Oh. Okay. Uh, I don’t even know where I was… oh, yeah. _Hey, Lou / Don’t let me down / You have found her, now go and get her / Remember to let her into your heart / Then you can start to make it better / So let it out and let it in / Hey, Lou, begin / You’re waiting for someone to perform with / And don’t you know that it’s just you / Hey, Lou, you’ll do / The movement you need is on your shoulders._ Louis, I… I can’t remember what the next verse is,” he says, chuckling.

He could swear a hint of a laugh comes from Louis, but he can’t be sure.

“Thank you,” Louis whispers.

“Anytime. Can you lie down and try to sleep?”

Louis sighs and takes his jumper off, then gets under the covers and lies down. Harry turns to leave, but Louis grabs his hand. He doesn’t need to say anything for Harry to know what he wants.

“I have to go tell my mum what happened,” he tells him, crouching by the bed. “But I’ll come back later, I promise.”

Louis nods, eyes closed.

Harry walks out and closes the door, rubbing his temples. _What do I even say_? He walks across the hall to his parents’ room and opens the door, then walks to his mum’s side of the bed. He nudges her until she wakes up.

“Harry, what are you doing? What time is it?” she grumbles.

“Mum, something’s happened,” he tells her.

She sits up, and she looks worried. “What kind of thing?”

“Louis, he’s… he’s gay, mum. And his parents found out, and they kicked him out of the house. I took him up to Gem’s old room and put his things in there. He’s sleeping now.”

Her mouth falls open a tad. “I… well, that was very mature of you, the way you handled that. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks.” He tries to smile. “I need to tell you something else, too.”

She nods, urging him to go on.

“I’m…” He pauses and takes a deep breath. _Inhale, exhale_. “I’m gay, too. And Louis and I… we’re dating. We’ve been dating for months now. His parents found out because they found his Valentine’s Day present for me.”

His mum looks like she has no idea what to say, and Harry's completely terrified that she’s going to kick both of them out.

Instead, she says the last thing he'd expect her to: “…Okay.”

“’Okay’?”

“I’m not really a fan of this, but… thank you for telling me.”

“Yeah! Yeah. Okay. I’m glad I told you, too.”

“Well, I think you should go back to sleep.” (He finds it funny that she thinks he was sleeping in the first place.) “We’ll talk more about this in the morning. Get some rest.”

“You, too. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He leaves her room and closes the door. He makes Louis some tea downstairs, then brings it up to him and checks on him. He's still awake, and he’s still crying, but it’s better than when he first arrived.

“I told her,” Harry says to him. Louis sits up to drink his tea – Harry made it exactly how he likes it. “I told her about you, and about me, and about us. I told her everything. She said we’ll talk about it more tomorrow. I’ll be campaigning for them not to make you go to school.”

“Thank you.”

When he finishes his tea, Harry stands up to go into Gemma's old room, to give Louis some privacy. Once again, Louis takes his hand.

“Please stay.”

Harry turns back around and gets into the bed next to Louis. He puts his arms around him.

“I’ll only stay if you go to sleep, alright?”

“I’ll only sleep if you stay.”

“Okay.”

Harry falls asleep with Louis in his arms, terrified of what’s to come in the morning.

* * *

February 15th, 1988

Harry's mum forged a note from Louis’ mum saying he was sick, and Harry gave it to Louis’ first hour teacher. Harry's currently sitting at their lunch table with Liam and picking at his food.

“…Are you alright?” Liam asks.

Harry shakes his head.

“Did something happen with you and Louis? Is that why he isn’t here?”

He nods.

Liam lowers his voice and asks, “Did you guys break up?”

He shakes his head.

“I can’t really know what’s going on if you don’t speak.”

Harry sighs. “His parents found out about us, and he got kicked out. I told my parents, too.”

“He got _kicked out of his house_?!”

“Yeah. He’s staying in my big sister’s old room.”

“Jeez. That’s heavy.”

Again, Harry nods.

“What did your parents say?”

“All my mum said was ‘Okay.’ We haven’t discussed it since last night.”

“I’m sorry.”

Harry sighs again and keeps picking at his food.

“Do you want to go out tonight? Obviously not, like, on a date, but there’s this café I like to go to by myself sometimes and I think you’d like it. I doubt Louis will want to come, but you can ask him. I think it’ll be a nice pick-me-up.”

“I’d like that. Thanks.”

Liam smiles.

—

Liam was right – Harry really does like the café. It’s very cozy and warm. The sun is setting outside, and it makes the brown wood of the café seem like it’s glowing. The whole place is lit by soft lighting, and it makes Harry feel very calm, being there.

He takes a sip from his hot cocoa. “You said you usually come here by yourself, right?” he asks Liam.

“Mhm.”

“Why don’t you take us here more often? It’s lovely; Louis would love it, too.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to.”

“I know your last friends sucked, but that doesn’t mean Louis and I are gonna suck, too,” he says, snickering. “You can invite us to do stuff if you want to! We want to spend time with you.”

Liam shrugs, and Harry thinks he’s blushing.

“This can be, like… our place. Y’know how in movies and on the telly, friend groups always have a cool place to hang out? This could be our cool place. The three of us, I mean.”

“’On the telly,’” Liam mumbles.

“Are you mocking me?”

“’Are you mocking me?’” Liam copies his accent.

Harry rolls his eyes and takes a bite from his muffin.

“To answer your question, though, I’d love to come here more often with you guys,” Liam adds.

Harry smiles at him.

—

Louis' head hurts. He thinks it might be from all the crying. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t had much water today, either. (He's not telling Harry that he didn’t drink enough; Harry’ll throw a fit.)

He hears Harry walk to his room to put his things down, and he soon enters Louis' room.

“Hey, babe,” Harry says. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. It still hurts, though.”

“I mean… you got kicked out of your house. It’s gonna hurt for a while.”

Louis nods.

“Did you take a shower today? That always makes me feel better.”

He holds up two fingers.

“You took _two_ showers?”

He nods again.

“Good. Did you drink a lot of water?”

“Yeah,” Louis lies.

“Good.” Harry holds out his hands. “I brought you a muffin from the café. You should really come there with us once you’re feeling better – it’s so cozy.”

He brushes Louis' hair out of his eyes, and Louis is overwhelmed with gratitude for all Harry's done for him. He’s giving him a place to stay, making sure he's taking care of myself, bringing him muffins… Louis fucking loves him.

“I love you so much,” Louis tells him.

“I love you more.”

“Wanna bet?”

Harry leans over and kisses him.

“At least you’re not, like, physically sick,” he points out. “I wouldn’t be able to give you kisses if you were ill.”

“Very true.”

After a pause, Harry says, “I’ll leave now, if you want me to.”

Louis shakes his head. “Can we watch a film together?”

“Did you finish all the homework I brought you?”

He scoffs. “Of course not. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Harry huffs. “You have to get up if you want to watch a film; the telly’s in my room.”

Louis groans and stands up.

“What are you doing?” Harry’s stepdad asks. He’s walking out of his room when he sees them in the hallway.

“Just going to watch a film in my room,” Harry replies.

“You’ll need to keep the door open.”

“Why? We never had to before.”

“Because there are different rules when you’re dating someone – you know that. We did the same thing with Gemma.”

“But he’s still my best friend.”

“As long as you guys are... romantically involved... you have to keep the door open.”

Harry makes a face, but he concedes.

“I guess the secret being out can be a blessing _and_ a curse,” Louis tells him. “At least we get to, like, take actual prom pictures together and stuff. Oh, you know what – I completely forgot to give you your Valentine’s Day presents after… everything happened. Let me go get them.”

He goes back to Gemma’s old room and rummages through his things until he finds what he's searching for. Then, he returns to Harry.

“So… I made you this mixtape,” Louis says, handing it to him. “It just has, like, love songs and stuff, with my commentary on some of the songs. I included a few original songs, too, ‘cause I know you love those. I can’t remember which of my songs I put on there… definitely not any of the ones you’ve heard before. I think I put ‘They Don’t Know About Us’ – which is ironic, because now they _do_ know about us, and ‘Strong’, and ‘Home.’

“You probably don’t actually care which songs I put, ‘cause you’ll listen to it later… but, anyway – I got these rings, ‘cause technically we’re engaged, but since we can’t wear them in public, I thought you could wear them both.” They’re just two silver rings with different engravings on them – they weren’t even expensive – but Harry looks shocked.

“Louis, you’re _amazing_! I _love_ them!”

The huge smile on his face makes Louis grin, knowing he's the one who made him smile like that.

Harry hugs him, and Louis can feel their hearts beating next to one another. There’s absolutely nothing he'd rather be doing right now than hugging Harry.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Harry kisses his cheeks. “Oh, my God, Louis, is that stubble on your cheeks?”

Louis blushes. “Yeah. I was going to shave yesterday, but…” He shrugs.

“You’re so grown-up. I remember sophomore year, you had no stubble and your voice was still really high.”

“You’re pretty grown-up, too. You’ve grown, like, a foot since sophomore year.”

“And you haven’t grown at all!”

“Shut up.” He shoves him playfully. “Weren’t we going to watch a film?”

“Yeah. Ooh, have we ever watched the _Rocky Horror Picture Show_?”

“Isn’t that the one about Muhammad Ali? The boxing film?”

“Oh, my God, _no_. It’s a musical.”

Louis shrugs. “Put it in.”

Harry slips the VHS into the player and rejoins Louis on the bed. They cuddle close together to watch the film.

* * *

March 9th, 1988

The past couple of weeks have been kind of crazy. Louis is officially living in Harry's house now, which is totally awesome, but Harry's parents are really on their case about not being alone together. Harry's getting the feeling that they’re not as okay with him being gay as they claim to be.

He and Louis went to visit Phoebe and Daisy’s elementary school this morning, and now they’re heading over to the middle school that Lottie and Fizzy go to. Louis has been itching to see his sisters for ages, and he’s terrified to go back to his house and ask to see them.

Harry and Louis wait in the principal’s office as the secretary calls his sisters from their classrooms.

When he sees them, Louis gives them fierce hugs. Harry thinks Louis is on the verge of tears, and he kisses his sisters' cheeks. The two girls are very excited to see him.

“Louis! Where have you been?” Lottie asks.

“I’ve, uh…” Louis pulls away so he can look them in the eyes and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what Mummy and Daddy told you, but, er… you know how the two of you fancy boys?”

They nod.

“I fancy boys, too. Harry and I—” He points at Harry. “—we’re a couple – we’re dating – and Mummy and Daddy didn’t approve of that, so I’m not allowed to live with you anymore.”

“That’s silly,” Fizzy comments.

“It really is.”

“You should come back!”

“I don’t think Mummy and Daddy would like that very much.”

“Where do you live now?” one of them questions.

“I live at Harry’s house.”

“Can I have the address to Harry’s house so we can visit you?”

Harry thinks that’s the best thing Louis has heard in a while, and Louis says yes. They manage to find some paper and a pen, and Louis writes Harry's address on the paper to give to them.

The three of them talk for a while, and Louis eventually has to let them go back to class. (Harry and Louis had a half-day of school today – that’s why they’re there.)

“Oh, hey – Fiz? Lots?” he says before he and Harry leave.

“Yes?”

“Don’t tell Mummy and Daddy I came to see you, okay?”

They nod. Harry thinks they understand more than he and Louis think they do. “Okay.”

He and Louis begin to walk back to Harry's house. The weather is really nice out right now – still kinda chilly, but the snow is all gone and it’s beginning to warm up.

He starts to reach for Louis’ hand, but he remembers that they can’t hold hands in public. Unfortunately, Louis catches his mistake.

“I know,” is all Louis says.

Later, at dinner, Harry and Louis sit next to each other. (They usually do.)

“How was school?” Harry's stepdad asks.

“It was okay,” he responds. “We went to see Louis’ sisters after school, though, and that was fun.”

Louis reaches for his hand under the table and holds it in his. They lace their fingers together.

“Are you allowed to see your sisters?” Harry's mum asks Louis.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I told them not to say that I saw them, though, so I’m safe for now.”

Harry's mum cranes her neck to look over at the other side of the table, and she sees them holding hands.

“Harry, sweetie, could you not do that at the table, please?” she requests.

“But you two hold hands at the table sometimes.”

“Harry, she asked you nicely,” his stepdad adds.

Harry glares at his mum. “Gemma used to be able to hold her boyfriends’ hands under the table. We’re not doing anything wrong.”

“ _Harry_.” His mum’s getting mad, but, frankly, so is he.

“Does this make you _uncomfortable_?” Harry asks, holding up he and Louis' hands. His eyes are shooting daggers at his parents. “Me and my _gay boyfriend_ holding hands?”

“You’re being very rude.”

“And you’re not answering the question.”

“You having a boyfriend doesn’t have to be my business. I’d like you not to hold hands at the table.”

Something about that hits the wrong button in Harry's head, and he snaps. He stands up, still firmly holding onto Louis’ hand.

“You know what? I have to deal with this bullshit everywhere I go! We can’t hold hands in public, we can’t kiss in public, and we can’t even tell our friends about us because, if people knew at school, they’d beat us up all the way to the hospital. _This_ ,” he says, once again holding up their entwined hands, “this is all I have! My home is supposed to be _one place_ I don’t have to put up with homophobic bullshit, and yet you won’t even let us hold hands at the table!”

It’s only now that he lets go of Louis’ hand. Harry walks away from the table and storms upstairs.

Louis finds Harry shortly after his outburst. Harry's sitting in the far corner of his room with the lights off, hiding his tearful face in his hands and trying to disappear. He doesn’t even notice Louis walk in – or shut the door and sit down next to him – until his body brushes up against Harry's as he sits.

“Hey,” Louis says softly.

Harry looks up at him. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Actually, I think you had every right to do that. They can’t treat you like that and not expect backlash.” He smiles fondly. “For someone who worries about everything and tends to stay quiet about this stuff, you really stuck up for yourself. I’m proud of you.”

“You are?”

“Of course.”

He leans his head on Louis' shoulder. Louis puts his arm around him, and he feels him kiss the top of his head. Harry plays with the rings on his fingers. (He's been wearing them ever since Louis gave them to him.)

“My parents are gonna kill us for coming in here and closing the door,” Harry says.

“Let them. We can stay in this dark corner for as long as you’d like.”

He chuckles at his comment. “I like the dark corner. I like being near you like this.”

“Me, too," he sighs.

“Me, too," Harry repeats.

* * *

 

March 26th, 1988

Harry and his parents have had a tense relationship over the past few weeks, and Louis feels really bad. He knows it’s ridiculous, but he feels like it’s his fault that they aren’t that close these days. If he hadn’t left his things where his parents could find them, they never would’ve found out, and Harry would never have had to tell his parents about them.

Tonight, Harry's in another argument with them about going to prom with Louis as his date. Of course, no one else will know, but they seem to think that he should go with a girl. He told them that he doesn’t have any female friends he’d like to go with, and he ran off to his room again.

Louis pops his head into Harry;s room.

“Hey, Harry?”

Harry turns around sharply, but settles down when he sees Louis. “Yeah?”

“D’you wanna get out of here?”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere. We’ll just drive. You need a break from being here.”

He sighs. “I really do.”

“C’mon, then.”

They sneak out of the house and get into Louis' car.

“Where are we driving?” Harry asks him.

Louis turns on the radio, and the station’s playing “Skin Deep” by The Stranglers. “Anywhere. Wherever the road takes us.”

He opens the windows. It’s dark out, and their little town has begun to light up. Harry sticks an arm out the window and closes his eyes. He seems at peace with himself, and Louis is glad his idea is working.

They drive for maybe a half hour, maybe 45 minutes. Louis isn't sure; he wasn’t counting. Either way, they find a tall hill that overlooks the city of Chicago from a distance. Louis stops the car, and they get out to lie on the grass.

“Do you feel any better, Harry?” he asks.

“A little bit. The car ride was nice, and I like that the air up here is very clean. It’s very calming.”

The city that lies before them is aglow in the darkness. Louis can hear crickets chirping, the wind rustling the trees, and faint sounds of the city. He realizes that this is the only time he's really felt tranquil since he got kicked out.

“I’m sorry,” Louis blurts out.

“For what?”

“It’s my fault that you and your parents are fighting. I should’ve kept my notebook and gifts and everything in better hiding spots. My parents finding out made me force you into telling your parents. This giant mess is all my fault.”

Harry’s brow creases. “Is that really what you think?”

“It’s what I _know_.”

“None of this is your fault, Lou. If your parents were looking around in your room, they probably would’ve found your stuff no matter what. And you didn’t force me into _anything_. I could’ve easily told my parents that you were gay and left it at that, but I _chose_ to tell them about me, too.” He pushes Louis' hair back out of his face. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

“Alright.”

He averts his gaze towards the night sky. “The stars are so beautiful.”

“They are.”

“One time, we looked at the stars and neither of us knew any constellations. Remember that?”

“I do.”

“I learned some after that. D’you want me to show you?”

Louis nods eagerly. Harry shows him where to find Orion, Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, and a few others. Harry knows the stories behind a couple of them, too, and Louis has him tell the tales to him. Louis sees a shooting star and wishes that the universe could stay as serene as the it seems right now.

“You know... when I’m feeling frustrated, I like to yell,” Louis tells Harry. “No one will hear us if we yell out here.”

“You want to just, like... scream?”

“Yeah.”

Harry holds his hand. On the count of three, they scream as loud as they can. Louis yells until his lungs start to hurt, and until he feels like all of his anger and frustration is gone.

"I'M A FAG!" Harry yells. "I'M A FAG, AND SO IS MY BOYFRIEND! CALL US ALL THE NAMES YOU WANT - WE DON'T GIVE A FUCK!"

Louis laughs. Harry starts blushing and laughing, too, and soon they've forgotten all about any of their troubles.

“We should probably go back,” Louis says. “Your parents will worry.”

Harry nods reluctantly. “I’ll drive us home. You should rest; I know you haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Neither have you.”

“Yeah, but…” He laughs and shakes his head. “I was just trying to be chivalrous! Like a good boyfriend should!”

“Fine, you can drive. But just this once. And if you crash my car I’ll have to kill you.”

“Fair enough.”

Louis helps him up, and they get into the car, ready to go back to Harry's house.

* * *

March 31st, 1988

Once again, Harry and Louis snuck out of the house. Harry feels like his parents barely even care that they’re alone together. It seems like, as long as he and Louis aren’t being gay in the house, Harry's parents couldn’t give two shits what they do.

Today, they’re back on the shores of Lake Michigan. They went there after school, and they’ve been here since then. Now, it’s around 5:00PM, and the sun is beginning to drift towards the western horizon.

“I have to wee,” Louis tells Harry after a while. “I’m just gonna go behind that hill over there.”

“Gotcha. I’ll watch the car.”

In reality, as soon as Louis leaves, Harry runs over to the wet sand by the water. In giant letters on the sand, he begins to write a “P”, then “R”, “O”, “M”, “?” He stands proudly next to his creation and awaits Louis’ return.

In the end, Harry decided to be brave and tell his parents how he really felt about them wanting him to go to prom with a girl. He told them that he would be going with Louis, or he wouldn’t be going at all, and that’s that. They ended up saying okay, but they weren’t happy about it, and Harry feels like part of the reason they said yes was because they’d already bought him a suit.

The water level rises just a smidge, and it cuts off the top of the “O”, the “M”, and the question mark. Harry panics and rushes to fix the letters.

Louis catches him putting finishing touches on the question mark.

“What are you--?” He cuts himself off when he sees what Harry wrote.

Harry stands up. “Will you, uh – will you go to prom with me?” he asks.

“Are you for real? Is that even a question that needs answering? Of course I will!”

Louis runs over the letters to give Harry a hug. Harry wipes his sandy hands all over the back of Louis' shirt, which makes him mad, and Louis starts chasing him down the beach. Harry screams and yells and laughs at him, and his clumsy legs are no match for Louis' tiny, speedy ones. He pushes Harry down onto the sand and laughs evilly. Harry yanks him down on top of him.

“I hate you so much,” Louis says, but Harry knows he means the opposite. His breathing is hot and heavy.

Louis kisses him. Harry puts one arm around his waist and uses the other to hold the back of his head, pulling them as close together as possible.

“God, have I ever told you how fun you are to kiss?” Louis says.

“You have now.”

They kiss on the sand for just a bit longer, and then they go back to Louis’ car.

At one point in the afternoon, they get a Swiss army knife from Louis’ glove box and carve their initials into a tree trunk with a heart around them. They joke about how straight people will think that “H+L” were a boy and a girl, and how anyone who sees it might wonder what the letters stand for, or who the people were.

Later, they sit in the truck bed of Louis’ car with a few blankets. Louis smokes a cigarette and tunes his guitar.

Harry snakes his arms around him and takes the cigarette from him, then takes a puff from it.

“That was hot,” Louis says.

“You know what else is hot?” Harry asks, hugging Louis tighter and speaking close to Louis' ear.

Louis blushes.

“Me taking this cigarette from you so you don’t ruin your voice and get lung cancer and die. That’s what’s hot.”

“Fuck you. Give it back.”

“Only if you play me a song.”

“Deal."

Harry lets go of Louis and sits beside him, leaning against the side of the truck bed. He takes a drag from the cigarette.

"Okay… this is called ‘I Want to Write You a Song.’” Louis clears his throat. “ _I want to write you a song / One as beautiful as you are sweet / With just a hint of pain for the feeling that I get when you are gone / I want to write you a song._ ”

There’s another verse, one about lending Harry a coat that’s as soft as his cheek.

“ _Ooh, everything I need I get from you / Ooh, giving back is all I wanna do_ …”

Two more verses are sung. One is about building a boat for him so that his heart won’t sink. The other is about writing a song again, but this one says that the song is intended for when Louis is gone, so Harry can “listen to his voice and sing along”. Harry claps when he finishes.

“That was really good! I think that’s one of my favorites.”

“Really?”

Harry nods eagerly and takes a drag. “Will you sing me another one?”

“You just don’t want me to get that cigarette back, do you?”

“That’s not what I… okay, yes, I’m trying to keep it from you, but I want to hear another one! I’ll give it back after this one, I promise.”

Louis furrows his brow, deep in thought. “There’s one that’s, uh… it’s really personal. You can’t make fun of it, okay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“It’s called ‘If I Could Fly’. It’s supposed to be played on piano, but I… let me see if I can make it work on the guitar.”

He takes a few seconds to work out the chords in his head, and Harry watches curiously.

Louis closes his eyes and takes a breath. “ _If I could fly, I’d be coming right back home to you / I think I might give up everything, just ask me to / Pay attention, I hope that you listen / ‘Cause I let my guard down / Right now I’m completely defenseless._

 _“For your eyes only, I show you my heart / For when you’re lonely and forget who you are / I’m missing half of me when we’re apart / Now you know me, for your eyes only / For your eyes only._ ”

Words can’t describe the feeling of having someone sing a song like this to you and knowing that it’s about you. It feels like every happy feeling in Harry's entire body is rushing to the surface, and he wishes he could convey this feeling to Louis.

“… _Now you know me, for your eyes only / For your eyes only / For your eyes only_.”

Harry wipes away tears he didn’t know were there until now. “That was fucking beautiful, Louis. Hands-down the best song you’ve ever written.”

“You think so?” He sneaks the cigarette out from between Harry's fingers and inhales.

“I _know_ so. There was just… so much _emotion_. You can see – I’m fucking crying, Lou. It was amazing.”

He smiles. “I’m glad you liked it. It was – I guess you probably already know, but it was for you.”

Harry nods. “Please play me an upbeat song now so I can stop crying.”

“You’re a big baby.”

He wipes away more tears. “I am! _Please_ sing me an upbeat song! Please!”

“Okay, but only ‘cause I love you. This one’s called ‘Ready to Run’…”

* * *

April 23rd, 1988

It’s the night of Harry and Louis' senior prom, and Harry's totally ecstatic to be going with Louis this year. (He's also pretty happy that his face doesn’t have the shit beaten out of it this year.) Liam offered to come over and take pictures for them, since Harry's parents didn’t want to take any couple-y pictures of he and Louis.

He waits for Louis downstairs, fixing his hair in his reflection on the TV screen. His parents forced him to buy an old-fashioned tuxedo: black with a white dress shirt and a black tie.

He paces around the bottom of the staircase, waiting for Louis. _I wonder what kind of tux he’s wearing. Did he buy the same one as me? Does his match mine at all? That would be kinda cute, even though people can’t actually know we’re going to prom together._

“Ahem! Is there a Harry Styles in this building? I think we were supposed to go to the prom together, but I dunno if he’s gonna show up or not. He’s kind of an asshole.”

Harry whips around and looks up to find Louis beaming at him from the staircase. His tux is turquoise, with a white dress shirt, black trimming, and black bowtie. (It _does_ kind of match Harry's tux, after all!) The color of the suit brings out the stunning blue-green color of his eyes, and his gaze makes Harry melt. His smile looks brighter than ever. When he sees Harry, his smile transitions into a look of awe. He’s staring at Harry like he's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, which is kind of how Harry looks at him all the time.

Louis runs down the rest of the stairs and gives him a huge hug. “You look so handsome, darling! I can’t believe we’re going to prom together. This is a dream come true for pre-teen Louis who thought he’d never have a boyfriend.”

“Same for pre-teen Harry. You look gorgeous.”

“Is Liam here yet?”

Right on cue, the doorbell rings. Harry opens it and sees Liam looking sharp in a gray tuxedo.

“Liam! You look great,” he tells him, they share a hug.

Liam thanks them, and the three boys walk out into Harry's backyard.

Harry points at a spot on the grass, right next to the side of the house. “Remember when I came out to you right here and you kissed me?” he asks Louis. “That was a pretty crazy night for both of us.”

Louis laughs. “I remember it like it was yesterday.”

Harry hands Liam his Polaroid camera, and he begins to take pictures of Harry and Louis. They come up with poses, and they laugh at some of each other’s ideas. Harry hears the camera snapping even when they aren’t posing.

When they've finished with their little photoshoot, he and Louis look through the pictures. There’s one of them cracking up together. Their smiles are wide, their eyes have crinkled at the corners, and they're gazing at each other with looks of pure adoration and affection.

“This one is amazing, Liam,” Harry tells him. “Thank you.”

He nods, acknowledging his praise.

“Y’know, my parents didn’t want to take any gay pictures, but I’m sure they’d be willing to snap a few of the three of us. D’you want me to go ask them?” Harry questions.

Liam and Louis both nod, and Harry brings his parents outside to take photos of them.

When it’s time to leave, Harry's mum pulls him aside.

“Have fun, sweetie. And please be careful. Be home by midnight.”

He nods. She kisses his temple and sends him off.

—

“Shit…” Louis mumbles. “Who’s going to drive us home?”

Prom night has been crazy. Harry, Liam, and Louis went out to dinner before the dance, and they danced their asses off when they got to the venue. Now, they’re at the afterparty at Niall’s place. Harry and Louis aren’t _totally_ wasted – they still have total control over themselves – but they’re totally too drunk to drive.

“I… I dunno,” Harry tells him. He chuckles. “Maybe we’ll walk.”

“What time is it?”

Harry asks someone walking past him, and the person tells him it’s almost midnight.

“Midnight… oh, _shit_!”

“What?!” Louis asks.

“We have to be home, uh… now.”

“ _Now_?”

Harry nods.

“We don’t even have a way to get home!”

Harry stumbles off the couch and finds Liam, who isn’t too far away.

“Liam! God, Liam, please tell me you’re sober.”

“I am. I can’t drink – bad kidneys.”

“Thank the fucking heavens – you have to do me a favor and drive Louis and I home. My curfew is, like, right now.”

“Okay.”

They run outside and find Lou’s car, then race against the clock to get to Harry's house. It’s 12:17AM when they arrive.

“Damn it, I hope my parents aren’t awake,” he says. “Please pretend we aren’t drunk.”

Louis nods. They use Harry's key to get in, and they tiptoe upstairs to his room.

Just when Harry thinks they’re safe, his mum says, “You’re late.”

_Fuck._

“Hey, mum,” he says. “Sorry, traffic was slow; I think a lot of people had to be home by midnight, too, ‘cause we had a hard time getting out of Niall’s place. I really tried to be home on time, though.”

She huffs. “What time is it?”

Harry looks at the clock on his nightstand. “12:18.”

“…Okay. I’ll let you off the hook this time.”

“Thank you!”

She leaves. Harry gets up to close the door, and he silently clicks the lock into place.

“We’re not drunk enough that we can’t mess around, are we?” he asks.

Louis grins and shakes his head.

Harry walks back over to him and kisses him. His lips are warm and soft, and they taste like beer. He tugs on Harry's tie, pulling him down on top of him. Slowly, layers of clothing are shed and tossed onto the floor: shoes and socks, jackets, ties, trousers… their dress shirts are the last to go before they're left in just their underwear. They leave kisses and lovebites all over each other until they’re all tired out.

“I’m gonna go shower,” Harry tells Louis. “If we’re caught smelling like alcohol in the morning we’ll never hear the end of it. You have to shower, too, when I’m done.”

He nods. Harry gets up and grabs his pajamas, then walks to the bathroom.

* * *

 

May 26th, 1988

As Louis looks around at the few hundred people sitting around him, being called up to a stage one by one, he thinks about what graduating means to him. It means finally leaving this town and going to live on his own with his boyfriend for a year, but it also means leaving behind all the memories they made. He met his favorite person and best friend in the world here.

_Niall Horan…_

Not all of the memories are good ones, though. He's kind of happy about leaving. He gets to leave behind memories of places he got beat up at, and the house he got kicked out of, and the place where his first best friend betrayed him.

_Liam Payne…_

He looks up at his friends as they walk across the stage. He fidgets with the tassel on his graduation cap and hopes that he and his friends will keep in touch.

_Harry Styles…_

Harry waves at him from the stage, and Louis waves back at him. He looks so happy to be graduating.

“Louis Tomlinson,” the announcer calls out at last. Louis gets up and goes onto the stage to grab his diploma. When he looks into the crowd, he sees a few familiar faces that make his expression fall. _Is that who I think it is…?_

He anxiously awaits the end of the ceremony, holding on to the thought that the people he thought he saw are really there.

“Congratulations, Class of 1988!”

Everyone throws their graduation caps in the air. There’s thunderous cheering and applause from everyone, and Louis runs over to Harry and hugs him as tightly as he can. Then, he tells him who he spotted in the crowd, and Harry follows him as he searches for them.

The mob of people parts, and Louis sees that he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Mum? Dad?” he asks. What he thought would be a happy moment for him turns out to be a bitter one, and his tone turns sour. He's angry with them for coming. “What are you _doing_ here?”

“I thought it would be a good example for the girls to watch you graduate,” his mum says. “And I wanted to see my son walk across that stage.”

Louis' mouth is agape, and he feels like crying.

“I can’t believe you,” he says. “I can’t believe you would kick me out of your house, screaming homophobic profanities at me, and then _dare_ to show up at my graduation.” Harry grabs onto his arm, holding him back. “You didn’t even bother to apologize for what you put me through.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m sorry.” His mother turns and walks away, and Louis feels hot tears run down his face.

“That _bitch_!” he says to Harry.

“Mummy says ‘bitch’ isn’t a nice word,” he hears Lottie say.

“Oh, Lots, it really isn’t a nice word; you shouldn’t be saying it,” Louis responds. He picks her up. “But Mummy hasn’t been a very nice person to me.”

She nods, and Louis feels like she actually gets it. Kids are so much smarter than they seem; smarter than adults, at times.

The rest of his sisters join he and Harry, and one of them tells Louis that his parents said he's still not allowed to live with them anymore.

“I know,” he says. “I’ll visit often, though, ‘cause I want to see the four of you.”

“Hey, Louis, will you sign my yearbook?” Liam asks him.

“Totally!” He puts Daisy down and grabs a pen from Liam.

“Do you have one?”

“Yeah; here you go."

He nods. Harry tells him he’d love to sign his yearbook once Louis is done, and they all exchange books. Louis leaves a heartfelt message in Harry's and decides to look later on at what Harry wrote in his book. They look through their yearbooks as a group and laugh at bad pictures of themselves and of the people they don’t like.

After an hour or two of mingling and teary goodbyes staining the pages of yearbooks, they all head home. Louis says goodbye to his sisters once again, promising he'll come back to see them soon.

And, so, high school is over, and the world holds new adventures for Louis and Harry.

* * *

June 26th, 1988

Louis' alarm clock feels louder than ever when it rings at 7:45AM. It’s going to be a hot summer day, and he has to get up _now_ if he and Harry are going to make it to Chicago on time.

Louis creeps into Harry's bedroom and shakes him awake.

“Harry,” he says softly. “Harry, it’s time to wake up, love.”

Harry groans.

“We’ll never get there on time if you don’t wake up. You still have to shower and get dressed and make sure you’ve got everything for the day.”

He groans again. This time, though, he rolls onto his back, stretches, and rubs his eyes. With a distressed sound, he throws the covers off and stands up. His little love handles rest atop the waistband of his underwear, and his hair is curly and messy. Louis watches the muscles in his back move when he stretches again. It’s kind of mesmerizing.

“Harry, will you wear your hair curly for me today?” Louis asks as Harry grabs his clothes and walks to the bathroom. “Please?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Louis waits until Harry’s finished his shower to go into the bathroom and shower. When he's done, he throws on a cropped t-shirt and shorts.

“Gosh, Louis, leave something to the imagination,” Harry jokes. “I can see _all_ of you. Every guy there is gonna want to steal you away from me.”

“Well, they’ll just have to deal with the fact that I am _very_ taken.”

Harry nods and gives Louis a quick kiss. Louis ruffles his short curls and tells Harry he's glad he decided to listen to him.

“All ready to go?” Louis asks.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s roll.”

They get into the car and begin the drive to Chicago.

“I brought some cassettes for you to look through,” Louis tells Harry. “I’ve got Elton John, Soft Cell, David Bowie, Boy George, and I even put George Michael and Wham! in there since you still insist that George Michael is gay.”

“You couldn’t have been a little _more_ obviously gay, could you? Put this one in.”

“Says the one who has conspiracy theories about celebrities being gay.”

“I could think of a bunch right off the top of my head.” The car starts playing “Karma Chameleon”, and Louis turns it down so he can hear Harry. “John Lennon and Paul McCartney? Secret gay love affair. Prince? Bisexual. I bet everyone in the Go-Go’s is a lesbian.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Louis, what if Stevie Nicks is a lesbian?”

“Stevie Nicks isn’t a lesbian,” he says, snickering.

“I can go for film characters, too, with a whole analysis and everything. I bet you Luke Skywalker is g—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Louis interrupts. “Please tell me you were _not_ about to say that _Luke Skywalker_ is _gay_.”

“That’s exactly what I was going to say! Luke Skywalker is a flaming homosexual.”

He listens to Harry ramble on about how, hey, maybe Duckie from _Pretty In Pink_ is gay and he secretly had a crush on Blane, or maybe the princess and the basket case from _The Breakfast Club_ had a thing for each other.

When they get to Chicago, the festivities are already in full swing.

Banners on buildings announce in huge letters that they're at the “CHICAGO GAY PRIDE ‘88”. Louis used to think Harry and Liam were the only other queer people he'd ever meet, but he's clearly very wrong. The only straight people he sees as far as the street goes are the protesters telling them that “HOMOSEXUALITY IS SIN!” and that they should “BURN IN HELL!”

Louis ignores them. When you hear things like that every day of your life, it doesn’t really affect you anymore.

He's never seen so many rainbows in his life. People are flying flags, wearing colorful clothing, protesting with banners and posters, and… god _damn_ , there are _so_ many gay couples! They’re all holding hands and kissing and _being themselves_ and Louis has never seen such a happy sight in his life. There are drag queens and guys in dresses and girls with shaved heads and people whose gender Louis can’t even tell. Balloons of every color float around on the streets.

He and Harry walk into the street, following the flow of the crowd. They walk slowly, taking in their surroundings.

“We can, like, be a couple here, y’know,” Harry reminds him with a laugh.

He slips his hand into Louis' back pocket, and Louis does the same for him.

Louis sighs happily. “This feels so good! Look at us, out and proud.”

“Aw!” a male voice near him says.

He turns and sees a tanned guy with sandy hair who looks a little bit older than he and Harry. He’s wearing a button-up shirt that’s unbuttoned in the front to reveal his fit body. Louis blushes when he sees the guy.

“Is this your first pride parade?” the man asks them. Louis and Harry nod. He calls out, “Hey, guys, I found a pair of cute twinks, get over here!”

“What’s a twink?” Louis asks him as another group of guys of guys wearing a diverse selection of clothing styles comes over to them. One is wearing thick glasses, another has a woman’s tube top on, and most of the others are wearing minimal clothing, like open shirts, tank tops, and cropped shirts.

“A twink is _you_ , pal,” the sandy-haired man tells him. “A young, handsome homosexual just starting out in the world. Are you from across the pond? ‘Cause you sure sound like it.”

Louis nods and gestures towards Harry. “My boyfriend and I both are. We live in East Chicago, though.” _My_ boyfriend _and I!_ Louis can’t even believe he said that.

“Cool!”

Louis and Harry stop walking to chat with this man and his group of friends.

“I’m Scott, by the way.” He sticks out his hand to shake.

“Louis.”

“Harry,” he chimes in.

They’re introduced to Scott’s friends, all of whom seem very friendly. They’re all in their early- to mid-twenties, and they immediately take Louis and Harry under their wings. They want to know their stories, and how he and Harry met, and all of the things that they’ve never been asked before. The entire time, Louis and Harry are either holding hands, have a hand in each other’s back pocket, or have their arms around each other. They’re taking advantage of being out in the open as long as they can.

One of the men in Scott’s group, Corey, gives Louis and Harry pins with pink triangles on them.

“C’mere, babe, I’ll pin it to your shirt for you,” Louis says to Harry. He lets go of his hand so that Harry can turn towards him, and he puts the pin on his shirt. Harry does the same for him.

“I guess we can’t deny it anymore,” Harry says with a chuckle. “It’s official. Everyone will know we’re queers now.”

“What a shame,” Louis replies sarcastically.

“Maybe we should get matching tattoos, just to make it more obvious.”

“I’m not really a fan of tattoos, but, uh... maybe I’d get a small one, just for you. I’ll consider it.”

For the rest of the day, they walk in the parade, meeting all kinds of people from all kinds of different backgrounds, ethnicities, sexualities, and genders. It’s so much more diverse here than it is in either of the small towns Louis grew up in. His favorite person he met was a lesbian named Jennifer who’d also been kicked out of her house. She’s in her early thirties now and was kicked out a long time ago, but she’s doing very well and lives with her girlfriend a few hours away from Chicago. She gave Louis some hope for his future.

Near the end of the parade, everyone who marched gathers at the end of one street and mingles some more.

“You know, we haven’t actually kissed yet today,” Harry informs him. “Like, properly kissed, I mean. We should do it while we have the chance to.”

Louis wraps his arms around Harry's neck. “I wholeheartedly agree.”

Louis' heartbeat speeds up, and their lips meet.

He takes in everything around him. The taste of Harry’s lips; the feeling of Harry's hands clutching his bare waist, where he can feel the rings on his fingers pressing into his skin; the sounds of Scott’s friend group – who they've stayed fairly close to the entire time – whistling and cheering them on while they kiss; and the image in Louis' head of their surroundings, of all of the rainbows and beautiful people who are with them right now.

For a few months after Louis got kicked out, it seemed like he didn’t have a home anymore. He didn’t belong in the house with my family, and Harry’s house certainly wasn’t his real home. But being here, and being surrounded by people who care about him – it feels amazing.

And being here with _Harry_ , the person he loves more than anyone else?

He might not have a real “home” anymore, but Harry feels like a close second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!! my tumblr is [eightiesau](http://eightiesau.tumblr.com), and if you want to help support the fic you can reblog [this post](http://eightiesau.tumblr.com/post/164661834034/modern-love-718k-summary-its-august-9th)!


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